


Stud Finder

by CallistoNicol



Category: sifki - Fandom
Genre: 'cause it ain't written by me if there isn't something to laugh at, Angst!, F/M, Tears!, and humor, and recurring roles for peanut butter, laughter!, love!, the AU that wasn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 59,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23658028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallistoNicol/pseuds/CallistoNicol
Summary: “You know you cannot fix our problems in a day. It could take a lifetime to unravel what we have wrought.”When a hurricane hits coastal Florida, Sif, Thor, and Loki decide to ride out the storm in their cinderblock hardware store, where they try and navigate the storms of life amidst the harrowing disaster occurring outside their walls. The storm has devastating consequences for their community and their family, as it fatally injures Thor and reveals that all is not as it seems in their little home.Featuring industrial forklift amounts of family baggage, repeated snarkiness at the hands of Loki, and Sifki determined to beat the odds and live happily ever after.
Relationships: Loki/Sif, Loki/Sif (Marvel)
Comments: 191
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy pandemic! I've been writing this thing for over a year now, and Sifki Month finally pushed me to finish it.

It was August 25, long past the date Loki had told Sif he would give her an answer, and she refused to be put off any longer. Marching into their shared office, Sif slammed her hand down on Loki’s desk. He didn’t even twitch, which told her he’d seen her coming and was affecting disinterest. 

“Loki,” she said sternly. 

“Can’t you see I’m working?” he said evenly, eyes remaining on his computer screen as his long, elegant fingers clacked away at the keyboard.

“It’s been two months.”

“Since June, yes. So glad you’ve learned to read the date.”

“I’m doing the office calendar.”

He moved his eyes from the screen to briefly take her in. “I approve. You’ll make an excellent cover model.”

Sif rolled her eyes. “It’s called _Stud Finder_ , not _Lube an O-Ring_. Our target audience is females, and I think they’d be highly disappointed to see me every month.”

“I’d buy a dozen copies.” And then deface them all to get on her nerves. Sif rolled her eyes. 

Instead of addressing his comment, she said, “Thor’s going to be featured on every month again if you don’t agree to do the photo shoot.” 

“As he possesses the kind of body young women fantasize about, I fail to see a problem,” Loki said, eyes back on his computer.

For his entire life, Loki had suffered with an inferiority complex with regards to his older brother. For whatever absurd reason, Loki had it stuck in his head that Thor was better than him in every way and that the entire world knew it, never mind that nobody else had ever said or done anything to indicate Loki was lesser. Accordingly, he didn’t think shirtless shots of himself would measure up to Thor, and while there were certainly people out there who would feel that way, Sif was not one of them. If Loki was featured on the calendar, _she_ would buy a dozen of them.

Not that she could tell him that, as any time she attempted to hint at being interested in him he made a self-deprecating comment and immediately changed the subject to sing Thor’s praises. It was highly annoying. 

“Not everyone wants a beefcake,” she said. “You’d be surprised at how many women are into a leaner look.”

“We want to sell more copies, not fewer,” Loki said, “so stick with Thor.”

“But--”

“Do you want that new bathroom? The calendar is how you pay for it. Stick with Thor.”

Sif couldn’t argue with that. Although she was confident Loki would make a great model, she had no data to back up her assumptions, and Loki, as CEO and president of their family-run hardware store, would never approve a dicey financial decision. The annual calendar generated enough revenue for extra projects such expanding the parking lot, upgrading from a hand painted sign to a neon sign, and, hopefully, updating the bathroom. There was no way he would jeopardize that based on Sif’s insistence that his smolder could melt a heart of ice. 

Not that she could say that to him, either, because while it wouldn’t sway him in the slightest, it would go straight to his head, and then he’d become an insufferable smirk-ball for weeks on end. 

“Please tell me Thor is in the store and you didn’t abandon the front end in your fruitless pursuit of my participation in the photo shoot,” Loki said.

Sif rolled her eyes. “If you were just going to shoot me down, why not do it in June instead of waiting for the end of August?”

Loki jutted his chin towards the front counter. “You have a customer.”

Calling Loki an unflattering name, Sif headed into the store to assist a middle-aged gentleman searching for the correct screw size. 

The hardware store, Stud Finder, had been in the Odinson family for years. When the parents died of old age, Loki and Thor inherited the store and decided to run it together. Loki, who barely knew which end of the hammer to hit the nail with, ran the administrative side of things, while Thor, an actual handyman, handymanded. Sif split her time between helping customers when Thor wasn’t around and helping Loki with the books. 

She couldn’t quite remember which brother talked her into joining their business, but it was the best decision she’d ever made. No matter how mad Loki made her--and he went out of his way to get her goat--she thoroughly enjoyed working with her friends.

A string of customers kept her busy until mid-afternoon when Thor returned, favorite hammer in hand. He was dressed in red coveralls and grease, a fine sheen of sweat along his brow from the Florida humidity. Sif may have a thing for Loki, but she could appreciate how well Thor wore his clothes. Just unbutton those coveralls a little (or a lot) and add a well-placed smolder, and he’d be perfect for August. Whipping out her cellphone, Sif barked “Don’t move!” as she snapped a few pictures so she could show the photographer what she wanted. “Give me your best come hither look,” she told her friend, but he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. “Come on, Thor; think _too sexy for my shirt_ , not _over-excited dog in the park_.”

“But I just spent an hour hammering nails into a wall for a little old granny to hang her pictures,” Thor said. “She fed me cookies. I’ll be smiling for hours.”

Thor did get calls for legitimate handyman needs, but most of his jobs were for lonely women who just wanted to watch his biceps. Thor didn’t mind, so Sif didn’t discourage the callers, but if they kept feeding him cookies, he wasn’t going to have the physique needed for the calendar. She doubted he’d care, but she really liked the perks the calendar provided. 

“Did you know Mrs. Cassini’s house sits on a fault line?” Thor said, winking at Sif. “Her pictures fall off with every new earthquake, so my hammering skills might be in high demand.” 

Amused, Sif said, “She knows we live in Florida and not California, right?” 

Thor shrugged. “Earthquakes happen where they will, Sif. Is Loki in?” 

Sif pointed to the back office. “He won’t do the calendar.”

Thor furrowed his brows. “Why not? He’s got that broody, mysterious thing women love. I think we’d sell twice as many calendars with him in it.”

An idea hit Sif. Leaving Thor at the counter, she ran to the office. “Wear a suit!” she said excitedly. Loki glanced up.

“I am. Thanks for noticing,” he said dryly. 

“No, wear a three-piece suit,” she said, flushing as she imagined him in a tailored suit. “A well-fitted suit is like lingerie to women. We could do an entire calendar of you wearing one, no Thor necessary.”

“Absolutely not,” Loki said flatly as Thor pushed his way past Sif.

“Absolutely yes!” Thor said. “Sif’s right. You’d be a hit, Lokes, and everyone would buy the calendar in triplicate.”

“No one would buy the calendar.”

“You’re wrong,” Thor insisted. “This is why Sif is in charge of marketing; she’s got better ideas.”

“We could do two calendars,” Sif mused, mind running with the possibilities. If the calendars generated twice the usual income, maybe she could talk the boys into buying her a standing desk or updating the art in their storefront window or hiring a part-timer to work the register, or any of the dozen other things that always needed to be done.

“No,” Loki said firmly.

“It’s a good idea to keep your marketing director happy, so think twice about saying no,” Sif told him.

“It’s a better idea to keep your boss happy,” Loki retorted, glancing up from his computer to give her a cool look. 

“Let’s keep all three of us happy!” Thor said, slinging an arm around Sif’s shoulder. She did not miss Loki’s pursed lips as he looked at the two of them. “One calendar for me and one for Loki keeps Sif happy. Cookies from Mrs. Cassini and the continued praise of the locals for my August photo keeps me happy. Extra money from a second project and a happy Sif keeps Loki happy. Let’s do this!” 

“No,” Loki said again, giving them an intent stare. Sif whipped out her phone and snapped a quick photo.

“That’s the look,” she told Loki, turning her phone around so he could see. “It will make everyone south of the North Pole swoon.”

He glanced briefly at the picture, then looked back at Sif. “Fine,” he said, “I’ll do your ridiculous calendar, but only if you give a satisfactory swoon right here and now.” His stupid smirk said he didn’t think Sif had it in her, but that’s because he didn’t know how she felt about him. 

Grabbing Thor’s shoulder to support herself, Sif gave an Oscar-worthy swoon and said, “By the Norns, he’s _hot_.”

It was deeply satisfying to watch Loki’s pale complexion turn bright pink. 

“Yes!” Thor cheered. “Two calendars!”

“Photo shoot in two days,” Sif said, beaming at Loki as he scowled. “I’ll pick you both up.”

“No,” Loki said. “I don’t approve of objectifying just Thor and myself. If we have to undergo this humiliation, so do you.”

“Is it objectifying if I don’t mind?” Thor mused.

Not willing to give up the anticipated extra income, Sif readily agreed, though with one stipulation: “I am not wearing a bikini.”

“As I refuse to go shirtless, agreed.”

“Perfect!” Thor said. “I can keep my beefcake calendar, and you two can be the elegant ones.”

That sparked another 20-minute argument over who was getting paired with whom. Thor argued the two fully clothed people belonged in the same calendar, while Loki insisted segregation by genders would produce a larger profit margin. Sif argued she should be with Thor and Loki should get his own calendar, partially to be contrary and partially because she wanted twelve months of Loki’s face. The argument ended without a solution when customers arrived needing help. Shooting Loki a look to let him know this wasn’t over, Sif and Thor hurried out to assist the customers. 

“He always gets his way,” Sif complained to Thor an hour later as they were closing up. 

“Because he’s usually right,” Thor said.

“I know and I hate it,” she grumbled. “A calendar of you two and one of me probably will fetch the highest price, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of winning.”

Thor had to pause in locking the front door as he was busy laughing. Pretending to wipe his eyes, he said, “Oh, you two.”

“Us two, what?” Sif shouted as she headed towards the back of the store to start organizing the mess customers inevitably made every day. Why they thought they had to dump unwanted items on any given shelf, Sif never could figure out. Why not return the item where you found it? Or at least hand it to the cashier to re-shelve, instead of making them play scavenger hunt every night after closing? 

To her surprise, Sif found Loki already straightening the inventory. She hadn't realized he was out of the office, and since the store wasn’t that large, he’d definitely heard her entire conversation with Thor. 

“If I’m always right, why must you always fight me?” Loki asked, returning a hammer to its bin. 

“You’re not _always_ right,” Sif corrected, “just...mostly always right.”

He shot her an exasperated look, so she stuck her tongue out at him. “Keep that up and your face will stay that way,” he told her.

“Thank you, mother,” she retorted, then paused, remembering how his mother used to tell all three children to mind their faces lest they freeze in an unflattering manner. She met Loki’s eyes, the soft expression in them telling her he was remembering Frigga, too. They shared a small smile. It was moments like these that reminded her why she worked with the Odinson boys. As irritating and frustrating as it could be working with friends she’d known since diapers, it was also comforting, sharing a past and knowing she didn’t need to explain everything she was thinking or feeling.

“You don’t have to do the calendar,” Loki said softly, interrupting the silence between them.

“You’re not wrong about our male clientele preferring me to you and Thor,” she replied, bending down to pick up a wrench that was wedged between the shelf and the floor. 

“But you won’t be as popular if you don’t show cleavage,” he said, and she rolled her eyes, “so we can do your Thor beefcake calendar and your Loki three-piece-suit calendar, and you’ll be in charge of making sure the women of Florida know they’re available for purchase.”

That was pretty generous for Loki--it almost sounded like he was giving her exactly what she wanted. Narrowing her eyes, she tried to find the flaw in his offer. He never made deals that didn’t benefit him. “What’s the catch?” she asked.

He smiled at her, eyes gleaming. “If we don’t double our calendar sales from last year, then next year we’re doing an exclusive swimsuit issue starring our very own Sif.”

That was more like him. Shoving her hand his way, she said, “Deal. But if I can more than double our sales, you agree to do an exclusive Loki calendar every year from now until you get too old and fat to do it.”

He gripped her hand, his skin cool against hers. “Agreed,” he purred. Maintaining eye contact, she refused to let him see how fast her heart was now beating. That voice of his should be illegal.

The smug look on his face indicated just who he thought would win this little bet, but he should have known not to activate Sif’s competitive side. Sif was going to promote the hell out of these calendars until every household from Orlando to Tampa owned one, and she planned to sell one of each to every teenage girl she came across. And then, because she was gracious, she was going to rub Loki’s nose in his loss from now until eternity. 

Leaving him with a determined smile, she left the boys to clean up while she went to her desk to start mapping out her marketing strategy.

*

The photo shoot was not going well.

“We spent two hours on your hair,” Sif snapped at Loki, “so stop trying to Cousin Itt yourself!”

Sif had missed the entirety of Thor’s shoot because she was busy babying the big baby now standing in front of their store. His three-piece suit might make Loki look smoking hot, but his attitude made him about as attractive as a twelve-year-old going through puberty. He complained about his clothes not fitting right, then complained about the adjustments to tailor the suit to his exact specifications. It took two hours to do his damn hair because he wouldn’t hold still, and when they were almost finished, he ran his hands through his hair and ruined everything, _six times_ in a row. Considering he usually never touched his hair, Sif knew he was doing this on purpose.

Now he wouldn’t do any poses anyone requested, he glowered when he should pout, grinned when they wanted smolders, and he mussed his hair at every opportunity, trying to obscure his eyes. Thor concluded his shoot in an hour because that man was made for the camera, and he actually listened when given directions. Loki was three seconds away from being throttled, and Sif planned to dump his body in the sewer, potential murder investigations be damned.

The photographer had been all smiles when Thor was done, but now she was threatening to quit. “I am not being adequately compensated for dealing with a toddler,” the photographer snapped, and Sif could only agree.

“Then leave,” Loki drawled, looking completely bored. “We can stick with Thor’s calendar and be done with it.”

And that was why Sif wouldn’t let the photographer walk or put the kibosh on the photo shoot. Loki was trying to sabotage her attempts to double their calendar profits, but it was going to be a cold day in hell before she let him succeed.

“For Odin’s sake, Loki, it’s 90 degrees out here and high humidity. I know you’re melting in that damn suit, so stop being an inconsiderate ass and do the damn shoot so we can all go back inside where the air is running!”

“Like I’m about to do,” Thor said cheerfully, clothed once again in his red coveralls. He opened the door to Stud Finder and locked it from the inside. Pointing from Loki to the camera, he mouthed _behave_.

Loki’s response was to stick his tongue out and bend in half, displaying his ass for all to see. Sif saw red, and wished she had a nail-studded two-by-four to smack him into obedience with. 

Turning to the photographer, Sif said, “If I had known he was going to be like this, I would have drowned him at birth.”

The woman snorted a laugh, then ran a hand through her sweat-slicked hair. “It’s not your fault,” she said, “but I am now contemplating homicide.”

“Three steps ahead of you,” Sif muttered, and the woman snorted again. Turning back to her unruly charge, Sif said coldly, “Act like a man or I will quit my job and move to Cleveland.” Loki stood straight and gave her a considering glance, trying to determine how serious she was. She was dead serious, though she’d probably move to China instead just to get away from this asshole. 

Apparently deciding her threat was in earnest, Loki didn’t say a word but turned to the camera and offered a look that usually melted Sif’s heart, but today just made her want to run him over with the company truck.

“Finally,” the photographer grumbled, camera clicking away. “It’s about time he started acting like his brother.”

Sif winced. That was the exact wrong thing to say, and the ice in Loki’s eyes said he’d heard. Throwing his jacket on the ground--his expensive rental jacket, because who the hell owned a three-piece suit in humid Florida--he started marching away. 

“LOKI,” Sif bellowed, and miraculously, he halted. “Back here. _Now._ ” 

He turned to face her, daggers shooting out of his eyes. “I don’t want to do your stupid calendar,” Loki snapped.

“You agreed to it!” she shouted. “That’s a commitment, Loki Odinson, and you’re supposed to _keep it.”_

Loki wavered for another ten seconds before stiffly returning to his position. Sif took a deep breath, and then three more because Loki was being a butt-faced miscreant, before approaching him to straighten his hair and suit. “If there’s damage to the jacket, you’re paying for it,” Sif said, voice low and too sweet. Loki said nothing, refusing to meet her eyes. Stepping back, Sif gestured to the photographer to get a move on.

“Stop scowling,” the photographer said. “No one wants a picture of a man who looks like he’s going to murder them.” Naturally, Loki didn’t so much as twitch a facial muscle. 

Sif growled. They had two more outfits and three more locations to go through, and their time with the photographer was quickly approaching its end. Time for desperate measures. 

With no warning, Sif stormed up to Loki, grabbed his face, and mashed her lips to his in what was simultaneously the best and worst kiss she’d ever had. Just as he started to respond, Sif pulled back with a loud smack, pleased to see Loki looked absolutely dumbfounded. It was a look every woman wanted on her man, and she knew that face would be the cover of his calendar. 

Miraculously, Loki cooperated after that. He didn’t say a word, but he followed directions like a good little puppy, and the rest of the shoot went off without a hitch. When Sif paid the photographer, she gave a hefty tip along with excessive thanks.

“I’ll happily work with you and the golden boy again,” the photographer said, “but _that one_ is on my blacklist. _Never_ again.”

“We are in agreement on that,” Sif said, signing her name on the woman’s tablet. “Again, thank you. I look forward to seeing the images.”

“As do I,” the woman said darkly as she took her leave.

Loki was nowhere to be seen, an excellent decision for self preservation. Had he been in sight, Sif would have given him a tongue lashing he’d never forget. Unlocking the hardware store, Sif found her desk and collapsed in her chair, burying her face in a pile of paperwork. It was blissfully quiet in the office, and she enjoyed finally being in a room with air conditioning. 

The solitude didn’t last long, but at least it was Thor and not Loki who intruded upon her space. Pulling up a chair, Thor sat on it backwards so he could rest his arms along the back. “You have unconventional methods of getting Loki to comply,” Thor said.

Were she not completely exhausted, Sif was sure she would blush from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes, but as it was she could only muster enough energy to rotate her head to face Thor. “I needed him to shut up, and it was the only thing I could think of,” she said. “Super effective, by the way. He didn’t say a word for the rest of the shoot.”

Thor whistled. “Impressive.” Sif huffed in acknowledgement. Reaching out, Thor grabbed her hand and hauled Sif to her feet. “C’mon, let me buy you dinner,” Thor said. “I’d give you a pay raise, but you’re our CFO, so you can do that yourself.”

She chuckled, brightening at the prospect of someone else feeding her. “Chinese?” she asked hopefully.

“Anything you want,” Thor said, leading her out. “You’ve earned it.”

*

Monday morning, Sif hummed as she entered the office nearly an hour before the store opened. Loki was already running numbers at his desk, back in one of his regular suits with the jacket draped over the back of his chair. The shirt sleeves were rolled up to expose his forearms, a sight Sif usually appreciated, but not today as she was still mad at him for his childish antics over the weekend. 

Knowing it would get a rise out of him, Sif pulled out her most chipper voice and said, “Good morning, Loki! Thor took me to dinner Saturday night.”

As expected his head snapped up, irritation or maybe frustration on his face, but it was quickly replaced with boredom. “Such riveting conversation you must have had,” he drawled. His affectations of disinterest didn’t fool her. Sitting at her desk, she purposefully started humming “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” Loki grabbed a pencil and shoved it in their noisy electric sharpener.

Sif smirked. 

Checking her email, she found one from the photographer.

_Edited golden boy to relieve some of the anger. Let me know what you think while I erase the devil horns I drew all over the other one._

Smiling, Sif clicked on the link and typed in her password, then whistled. Every picture made Thor look like Adonis. He smoldered in some and grinned like a little boy in others, every muscle and strand of hair gleaming in all the right places. That man’s body was a gift. 

Picking up her laptop, Sif plunked it down in front of Loki, open to a shot of Thor with his left fist planted on his hip, right hand holding a hammer up as he kissed it. His red coveralls were unbuttoned and rolled down to his hips. “That,” Sif said, “is what August looks like.”

She took great pleasure in watching emotions flicker across Loki’s face, from jealousy to irritation to displeasure, before settling on resentment as he scowled at his computer, reaching over to close her laptop. “Why don’t you tell me to be more like my brother and get it over with?” he said snidely, not meeting her eyes. 

Sif reached out and grabbed his chin, turning his face toward her. She waited until he looked up, anger glittering in his eyes. “I don’t want you to be like your brother. I want you to be a better version of yourself.”

Their eyes remained locked, the air between them thick with tension. Loki’s anger didn’t abate so much as morph in intensity, and suddenly the tension was an entirely different kind. Sif’s pulse thundered in her head as she leaned forward a sliver, Loki’s chin tilting upward a fraction. Breathing became difficult, the air between them as heavy as the humidity outside. 

Nothing happened, however, for Thor burst into the office at that moment. “Good morning!” he said, coming to a halt as he saw them. Aware that she was holding Loki’s face, Sif dropped her hands and turned to face her friend, willing her face not to blush. “Am I interrupting something?” Thor asked, his tone just innocent enough that Sif knew he knew damn well that he was. 

“Yes,” Loki said, voice cool, “but by all means, don’t let that prevent you from loudly announcing your presence.”

Annoyance briefly flickered across Thor’s face before being replaced with his usual jovial good humor. “Excellent,” he said, moving to the chair in front of Loki’s desk, “because I need help organizing the…”

Retrieving her computer, Sif returned to her desk, tuning the brothers out as they discussed the most efficient route for Thor’s handyman jobs for the day. Breathing deeply, she picked up an expense report and used it to fan herself. Perhaps Loki wasn’t as indifferent to her as he so often acted. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Sliding a black coffee toward Loki across the hood of her car, Sif slipped into the driver’s seat while her boss took the passenger side. They had a meeting in Orlando regarding their business insurance, which Loki, as CEO, needed to be present for in case any official changes needed to be made, and Sif needed to be present for as she was the only one who understood their finances and how the insurance worked. 

The air between her and Loki had been tense since the photo shoot. They hadn’t shared another moment since Thor interrupted them, and any time Sif tried to get close to Loki, he deflected and sent her careening towards his brother. More than one angry word had been shared, so the prospect of being alone in a car with him for hours did not appeal to Sif. She’d rather bring Thor, but he was the muscle of the company and therefore better suited to helping customers than Loki would be. Plus the whole CEO thing.

Loki sipped the coffee she brought him, but said nothing, not even thank you. Sif sighed. This was going to be a long morning.

Pulling out into the street, Sif turned on the radio. Loki deigned to bestow words upon her. “No music,” he said.

“I am not sitting in stunted silence with you all the way to Orlando,” she said, looking for something to annoy him. Country? Pop? Rock? Anything that wasn’t classical, his preferred genre. Ooh, Christian rock. The radio warbled out the lyrics “ _Father/ let heaven and earth collide/ in the endless wonder of your love_ ” and Loki snaked out a hand to turn off the radio. He hated songs glorifying father figures. “That’s my favorite song,” Sif lied, turning the radio back on. 

_To see Your love unfold_

_Adopted as Your own_

_Alive to make You known_

Loki slammed his palm against the console, effectively turning off the radio and blocking Sif from turning it back on. 

“Problem?” Sif asked sweetly.

“Just drive,” Loki muttered. 

Sif let him wallow in silence for fifteen minutes before turning the radio back on and tuning it to classical. Loki relaxed in his seat, staring out the window. “When are we going to talk about it?” Sif asked, pulling onto the interstate.

“Talk about what?”

“Whatever you’re mad about now.”

“I’ve always found _not_ discussing perceived issues to be the best use of my time,” Loki said.

“No,” Sif corrected him, “you’ve always refused to talk about things until they blow up, leaving the rest of us confused over what caused the most recent explosion. _How can you not know?_ you cry, convinced we all hate you. _I’ve only been upset about this for fifteen years!_ ” She paused in her imitation of him, but he said nothing. “You know, Loki, you deserve whatever misery you inflict upon yourself when you won’t let the people who love you help you.” 

He snorted derisively but said nothing, so she let it be. Hopefully whatever was eating his soul this time would recede enough for him to act like a professional by the time they reached Orlando.

The insurance meeting thankfully went well. Loki put away his pout and pulled out all the charm, making everyone feel at ease. Sif was almost proud of him, except for the irritation she was compartmentalizing in the back of her mind. Professionally he was doing his part, but personally she wanted to throttle him. Why did all these strangers get the best of him, while she and Thor only got the worst? Would it really kill him to share the love?

After the final handshakes, the company heads escorted them to the elevator, making small talk about the weather. Loki kept up his charming smile until the elevator doors closed, at which point he reverted to his usual scowl. What minimal good mood Sif retained from the meeting disappeared, and she shot Loki her own scowl. If he didn’t want to give his best to her, she sure as hell wasn’t going to waste her best on him. 

The elevator started moving, inane music the only sound. Tapping her foot impatiently, Sif looked at her watch just as the elevator came to a screeching halt. The sudden cessation of movement unbalanced Sif and jostled her into Loki, also off-balance. They steadied each other and stared at the floor display. They were very clearly between floors.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Loki muttered, reaching for the emergency button. 

“ _Hello?”_ a tinny voice greeted them.

“Your elevator seems to have come to a sudden and complete halt,” he said in a tightly controlled voice.

“ _Oh, dear,”_ the voice responded. “ _One moment while I verify your claims.”_

“Verify our claims?” Loki muttered. “Who lies about an elevator being stuck?”

They waited in silence for several minutes before the tinny voice came back on. “ _It seems your elevator is stuck, sir. We’ve called a repair crew and they said they’ll be here within the hour._ ” 

An _hour_? Sif stared in disbelief at Loki. They were barely forming complete sentences around each other, and now they were stuck in a small, confined space where they couldn’t get away?

Then the reality of their situation struck, and Sif smiled like a cat who ate the canary. They were stuck in a small, confined space, and Loki couldn’t get away. _Excellent._ “We’re not going anywhere,” she told him, unable to keep the triumph from her voice. “You _have_ to talk to me.” Sliding to the floor to get comfortable, Sif crossed her arms.

Looking down at her, Loki raised both eyebrows and said, “No, I don’t.”

“Okay,” Sif said, “but you are stuck listening.” He rolled his eyes and turned away from her. Sif preferred this; if he wasn’t looking at her, she was less likely to get angry at his smug or bored expressions. “I don’t know why you’re so angry lately,” she said, “but I’m tired of it. Thor is tired of it. We haven’t done anything to earn your ire, so we’re fed up with you treating us like unwanted orphans. We both care about you, but there is a limit to how much we will put up with before we turn our backs on you.”

Loki huffed, but otherwise said nothing. Sif tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and continued. “I’m particularly displeased with this current show of attitude considering we almost had a moment last week. Moments aren’t supposed to turn into cold shoulders, but for whatever imagined slight you currently think I’ve sent your way, you have shut me out so completely that I don’t know if I even want our moment to mean anything.”

This garnered a response from her brooding friend. “You’ve never wanted it to mean anything,” he said coldly.

“When did you become a mind reader, Liesmith?”

He turned to face her. “What did you call me?” 

Not allowing Loki to derail their conversation, she ignored his question. “I have always cared for you. We grew up together; I’d care about you if for no other reason than we are childhood friends.”

“What every man wants to hear,” he said dryly. 

“Are you certain you’re a man?” Sif snapped. “Because you’ve been acting like a tantruming toddler.”

His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, but whether he had no comeback or elected not to share his chosen words, he remained silent. Sif let a moment pass, allowing the charged air to relax before speaking again. When she could be civil, she went another route. “I had a massive crush on you in high school,” she informed him. “I used to draw your name in hearts on the inside covers of my notebooks.” 

Loki eyed her distrustfully. “I find that hard to believe,” he said, “considering you used to follow Thor around like a little puppy dog.”

“I did no such thing!” 

“Everyone knew where Thor was, there Sif would be, too. It was sad to watch, really.”

She had to take another moment to collect herself, lest she lash out and say something that could not be unsaid. Thor could forgive words of anger, but Loki never forgot, and was liable to bring them up in an argument ten years from now, long after she forgot what she’d said. 

The problem was, Sif didn’t know where she wanted this conversation to go. All she knew was there was some sort of barrier between her and one of her oldest friends, and she wanted it torn down. If that meant bringing up old high school feelings, she supposed she was willing to go there. She just hoped Loki knew what he was getting himself into, because for every false memory he had of her throwing herself at Thor, she had actual memories of him hiding like a coward from his brother’s spotlight. 

“Do you know why I was always with Thor?” she asked evenly. At some point Loki had joined her on the floor, leaning against the opposite wall. It wasn’t a large space, but he was putting forth every effort to be as far away from her as possible. “It’s because of you.”

“Oh, yes, blame me for your unwavering crush,” Loki interrupted. 

“I was not crushing on him,” she snapped. “Now shut up and let me finish talking before you interrupt with incorrect interpretations.” He mockingly saluted her, but remained blissfully silent. “I had a massive crush on you, and just when I thought we were on the same page and could maybe start a relationship, you all but disappeared and would hardly speak to me. Since you wouldn’t have anything to do with me, that left Thor to hang out with. As he wasn’t doing his level best to push me away, I spent all my time with him. If you misinterpreted that as a schoolgirl crush, then you only have yourself to blame.”

Loki’s face dropped much of its hostility, and now he looked chagrined.

He mulled over Sif’s words, chewing his cheek and opening his mouth to say something, then hesitating and rethinking his plan of attack. Sif waited patiently. Loki, so gifted with words, always with a ready reply and quick wit, rarely took the time to think them through. For him to take this long to answer, Sif knew that for once he was giving the situation the weight it deserved. She could wait.

He’d changed so much since their youth. There use to be a carefree quality about him, a glint in his eyes, always ready to do some mischief. The glint was still there, but weighted now, as if he expected his compatriots to be disappointed no matter what he did. It made her heart ache; she missed the easy and conspiring smiles of his youth. Were they still teenagers, she knew Loki’s photo shoot would have gone over much differently. He would have strutted around for the camera, doing his best GQ smolder and giving Thor a run for his money on enjoying the experience. She mourned for the boy he once was. 

“Did you really like me?” Loki asked at last, interrupting the silence. For once his voice wasn’t mocking.

“Yes,” she said simply.

He seemed to deflate, an ironic smile teasing the corners of his mouth. “Figures.”

She waited a moment, but when he didn’t elaborate, Sif said, “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

All expression was wiped from his face as he said, “What more than that?”

Burying her head in her hands, Sif inhaled through her nose a couple of times. She wanted to have a grown up conversation, not yell at him. She wanted to have a grown up conversation, not yell at him. _She wanted to have a grown up conversation, not yell at him_.

When she convinced herself that was true, she lifted her head and glared. “Fine. The past is in the past. If you didn’t like me then, we don’t have to talk about it, but I kissed you almost two weeks ago, and you were not unreceptive. Talk about _that_.”

He leered at her. “Looking for a repeat performance?” he sneered, and she wished she had a pillow to smother him with. 

“Why is it so damn hard to have a serious conversation with you?” she asked the ceiling, reminding herself that yelling wouldn’t get the results she wanted, no matter how badly she wanted to.

“I’ve been told I lack maturity.”

She snorted. Truer words were never spoken. 

Giving up, Sif pulled out her phone and opened a mindless game. Romantic feelings for Loki aside, she loved him, which was what made it so hard to watch him be miserable and know she could do nothing about it. He got to make his own choices, no matter how stupid those choices were.

They sat in silence for the remainder of the hour. The second the sixty minutes were up, Loki was back on the intercom, demanding to know where the elevator repair men were. _“There’s been a mix-up with dispatch,”_ the tinny voice said, _“and we no longer have an estimated time of arrival. I’m sorry, sir. We’ll let you know the moment we hear anything.”_

Loki growled something unflattering and slithered to the floor, crossing his arms in a very immature pout. Sif wanted to imitate him. No repair crew? She was stuck in here _indefinitely_ , with a Loki who could barely get a civil word out? Trying not to give in to despair, she shot a text to Thor, letting him know their situation. At least she still had her phone, though the battery wouldn’t last forever, especially if she kept playing on it.

Another half hour went by, then another, and another. The continuous game playing was quickly draining her battery, but she didn’t want to look at her companion, and if she dragged her eyes away from her screen, she knew precisely where they would land. At last, with 25% remaining, she powered down her phone. She might need it later, to get in touch with Thor or call emergency services after she accidentally dismembered Loki. 

The second she removed her finger from the power button, Loki spoke, making her jump. “Did you know I’m adopted?” he asked. She looked at him, eyes wide, and shook her head. Adopted? “I found out in high school,” he said, looking intently at his hands. “It was shortly after junior year started, and I didn’t know what to do with the information, so I ran.”

“Away?” she asked. “You ran away?”

“I thought about it. The only thing keeping me at home was knowing if I ran away, they’d tell you everything. I promised Mother I wouldn’t bolt if she never told you the truth. Instead, I ran from my feelings and my family’s feelings.”

“I have so many questions,” Sif said. “Why is being adopted such a big deal? I mean, yes, it’s a big deal, but it’s not like you murdered somebody. And why didn’t you know? Did Thor know? Why couldn’t I know? Why are you telling me now? How did you find out? Junior year--stars alive, Loki, is this why you stopped talking to me?”

He looked at her then, and she couldn’t interpret the look on his face. “Don’t you want to know where I came from?”

“I already know where you came from,” she said. “You’re an Odinson; you came from Frigga and Odin’s house.”

He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. “I’m the son of a criminal, Sif,” he said harshly. “A murderer. Double homicide. I was left behind at the scene of the crime, and Odin took me home. The great and philanthropic Odin, rescuing a murderer’s bastard.”

Moving to sit beside Loki, Sif found his hand and twined her fingers with his. He wouldn’t look at her. “You can be a bastard, all right,” she said softly, “but a rat bastard, not some unwanted child. I saw the way your mother looked at you. I’ve long suspected you were her favorite.”

“Was I?” Loki asked, words heavy with uncertainty. “I know I was my father’s shame. Instead of being of the glorious lineage of Odinson, I carry the blood of common criminals. Though he’s the one who brought me home, he couldn’t quite live down the ignominy of it.”

“Your father loved you,” Sif whispered.

Loki ignored her. “And my mother. She knew from the beginning--of course she did. You don’t suddenly have a baby you didn’t birth and not know. And yes, she loved me, but not enough. Seventeen years of life and she never once contradicted my father, never once thought to tell me herself, never even gave lip service to the idea that the sins of the father aren’t the responsibility of the child. When I found out I was adopted, she tried to assure me I was not my birth father, nor was I unlovable, but it was too little too late. I’m the product of a monster, and they both knew it.”

Sif squeezed his hand, hot tears sliding down her face. She rested her head on Loki’s shoulder, where her tears splashed onto his white button-up. She hadn’t noticed when he removed the jacket. Bringing up her free hand, she gently traced the veins in his forearm. “You aren’t your blood,” she said softly. “You’re your choices.”

“Yes, because those have been so brilliant lately,” he scoffed.

“You aren’t dead yet. There’s always time to change.”

He didn’t respond.

It made sense, now that Loki told her of his adoption. He never looked like his family, despite Frigga’s insistence that there were dark-haired and fair-skinned individuals on her side of the family tree. Loki was long and lean, built like a pole vaulter, while Thor and Odin were built like linebackers. 

But appearances weren’t everything. Loki may not look like his family, but he and Thor shared a mischievous streak and laughed at the same stupid jokes. Products of their rich parents, they both had a snooty sneer, though Thor’s was more gentle and Loki’s more pronounced. They followed all the same sports teams, even if Loki publicly mocked Thor’s interest in the non-academic, but he always knew the latest team updates. They liked all the same movies from childhood and had read all the same books. Many mannerisms were the same, too--they blew their noses the same way, twitched their noses the same way, used the same judgmental eyebrows. 

Thinking of Thor, Sif made a connection and asked, “Is this why you have problems with Thor?”

“Yes,” Loki said shortly. “He’s the perfect son, while I’m the perfect disaster.”

Given his recent actions she wasn’t going to contradict that, so instead she said, “You know, it’s not Thor’s fault you’re adopted.”

“No, but that doesn’t change the fact that he was the favorite, the golden child. Everything he did was wonderful, while Odin only ever gave me raised eyebrows and quizzical glances.” His voice was heavy with resentment. It hurt Sif’s heart to think he felt that way, but she couldn’t deny this, either. Though she was confident Odin loved both his sons, Thor had received preferential treatment. She used to chalk it up to him being slightly older than Loki, and since Odin was old-fashioned, probably had something to do with being the firstborn and family inheritance. Now, however, she was beginning to question her long-held beliefs. 

Still. Loki was missing the bigger picture. “Even if Thor was the favorite,” Sif chided him, “Thor never thought he was better than you. He still doesn’t.”

“What about you?” Loki asked.

She understood. “When you’re being an ass, I definitely _like_ Thor better,” she said, “but I don’t think he’s better than you.”

Loki said nothing, but gripped her hand more tightly. 

She couldn’t believe she was holding Loki’s hand and he wasn’t running away. Sif should probably appreciate this more, but it was hard to focus on when she was so concerned for him. She needed to navigate these waters carefully if she didn’t want Loki to bolt like a frightened rabbit. Removing her left hand from his forearm, she wiped at the tears on her cheeks

A cool hand joined hers, gently wiping away the tears. Sif tilted her head slightly to look into Loki’s eyes, intense with concentration as he avoided her gaze. “Are you really crying for me?” he murmured, letting his fingers linger on her cheek.

“I know you think you’re alone in this world,” she said, fighting the urge to shift and kiss his hand, “but I care about you, Loki, and it grieves me when you hurt.”

He met her eyes then, a sliver of wonder in his gaze, mixed with turmoil. She wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, but the tiny bit of hope cutting the tragedy written on his face tugged at her heart, and she surged forward to capture his lips. 

The response was immediate, and soon Sif found her face cradled in Loki’s hands while she clung to his shoulders. The kiss didn’t last long, and when they parted, she felt a strange energy thrumming in her veins. Was this love, or was Loki just that good at kissing her? Unclear, but she was willing to do the legwork to find out. 

Before she could begin collecting data, Loki gathered her in his arms, her ear pressed against his heart. The steady beat was accelerated, much like her own, she was pleased to note. Wrapping her own arms around him, she held on tightly. Please don’t let this be our only embrace, she thought, knowing his volatile nature and her inclination to respond with fire could very well make it so. But no. She would fight to make certain it wasn’t. He’d opened the gate, and there was no way she would let him back out. 

Sif relaxed into Loki’s embrace, treasuring the feel of his body pressed against hers. It was a rare moment of peace in their hectic lives, and she intended to cherish it. 

After a moment, Loki spoke into her hair. “Did you really like me in high school?” he asked again.

“Yes,” she said promptly. 

“I thought myself in love with you, too,” he said. “I was...not pleased when you chose to follow Thor around instead.”

Drawing back, Sif gave him a look. “We’ve already been over this,” she said. “You pushed me away, he didn’t.”

“I’m not pushing now.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Did he mean…? But Loki was very good at dancing around a subject. Unless something was stated outright, there was no guarantee he meant what she thought. “You have to say it,” she demanded suddenly. “No hiding behind fancy words, no trite phrases meant to be interpreted one way and another. Straight speaking, Loki Odinson.”

“I would not be disappointed if you kissed me again,” he said, moving forward to do just that.

Sif held up her hand, blocking his mouth. “Not good enough, Silvertongue,” she said. “Say it.”

His eyes were smoldering; breathing became a struggle. His lips curled deliciously, and Sif knew she was in danger. He kissed her hand and Sif yanked it back, her fingers burning where his lips had touched. The air between them was once again thick, like it had been in the office last week. Her face was flushed, his eyes bright. “Say it,” she whispered. 

“I think I love you,” he murmured, “and would like to take you to dinner.”

Unable to control herself, Sif met Loki halfway in a bruising kiss, so different from the tender one of mere moments ago. Sif was glad they were trapped in an elevator, because there was no appointment or responsibility to hurry them along. 

At last the kiss came to an end, leaving both Loki and Sif breathing heavily. They took a moment to straighten themselves out, sharing a smile as they did. Sitting side by side, she took his hand once again and held it securely in her lap. “Think they’d let us buy this elevator and keep it as a souvenir?” she asked lightly.

“I’m sure they’d love to gut their building just so you can keep a metal box.”

Sif smirked. “We could put it in the office for when we need a little privacy.”

Loki didn’t reply, but he did tug at his collar. Sif’s smirk deepened. 

“Put that tongue of yours to good use and tell me a story,” she said. Loki obliged, keeping her entertained for the next hour and a half with tales from his shared childhood with Thor. She already knew most of them, but loved the sound of his voice and hearing his take on incidents she was present for. 

Nearly six hours after they were first trapped, the tinny speaker voice came on and announced that the repairman had arrived. It took another half hour of work, but the doors finally opened, and without taking the time to say thank you, Sif ran to the nearest bathroom and relieved herself. 

“It’s been a long afternoon,” she explained, rejoining the group.

The insurance company was full of apologies and assurances that this would never happen again, and offered to buy them an expensive dinner in a sad attempt to compensate for their lost work day. Loki looked like he was about to rip into them, so Sif stepped on his foot and brightly accepted on his behalf. “You owe me dinner anyway,” she said on their way out of the building. “Why not let them pay?”

“All I want right now is a burger and fries,” Loki muttered. “I’m not interested in waiting for a six course meal. Plus you smell like an elevator.”

“You do, too,” she shot back. “And we can get the burger and fries next time.”

He side-eyed her. “So there will be a next time?”

Unlocking the car, Sif opened the door and said, “It can be arranged.” He smiled at her, slipping into the car.

Sif inserted the key into the ignition, then dropped her hands in her lap. “You know,” she said, “I’m not the only one who’s been mad at you lately.” She turned to face Loki. “You have to talk to Thor.” 

His lips twisted with displeasure. “A conversation with my brother won’t be nearly as successful as ours was.”

“I mean, you could _try_ kissing him.” 

Loki’s little grimace twisted briefly into amusement. “It would certainly shut him up,” he murmured.

“And technically you’re not related, so it’s not incest,” Sif said helpfully. 

He shot her an amused glance. “Pawning me off on someone else already?” he tsked lightly. 

“I’m just saying, it’s an option. Not a good option, because you would immediately be short one girlfriend, but it’s an option.”

“Girlfriend, hm?”

Sif looked him straight in the eye, and so there could be no doubt, firmly said, “Yes.”

Loki gave a long suffering sigh. “For my girlfriend, I can make time to talk to my brother.”

Satisfied, Sif started the car, the radio coming to life in the middle of a weather update. “...hit the eastern coast of Florida by the weekend. Evacuation orders are in effect for all coastal regions, and they are mandatory. Though still just a Category-3 hurricane, Lee is expected to increase to a Cat-4 hurricane before landfall. Please take all possible precautions.” 

Loki met Sif’s eyes. “Perhaps I’ll postpone that chat until after we secure the store and our homes.”

“We going to ride it out or evacuate?” she asked. 

“Let’s get home and discuss it with Thor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left a comment!
> 
> The lyrics in this chapter come from “Father” by Hillsong United. Never heard it, so I don’t know if it’s any good, but Christian music seemed the place to go to find lyrics specifically meant to torture Loki.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you by the bag of cheese puffs I ate in one sitting.
> 
> This chapter (the whole story, really) also brought to you by my obsessive need to google hurricane videos and hurricane facts every time one strikes where my brother lives. Fun fact: the wind does far more damage than the storm surge/flooding.

An executive decision was made to ride out the hurricane in the Stud Finder office. The building was made out of cinder block, making it plenty secure, and none of them wanted to battle evacuation traffic. 

Looking over her little ground floor apartment, Sif mourned the loss of all her belongings. The hurricane was about half a day away and already a Category-4. Her apartment, made predominantly of drywall and vinyl, didn’t have a great chance of surviving the 130 mile per hour winds heading their way. 

Everything important had already been transferred to the office, and Sif was just finishing up loading her car with her food storage before joining the Odinsons at Stud Finder. Despite the fact that the brothers were reasonably well off, they didn’t keep any food in the house, eating out for nearly every meal. Sif, far more practical, kept regular groceries on hand in addition to enough food to get her through the month in case something happened. Those precious food stores were going to be useful when the hurricane destroyed all nearby grocery stores. She would have stocked up with more groceries, but as soon as the local weather stations started broadcasting about the impending hurricane, every grocery store in Florida was out of food within the hour. 

At least she didn’t have to worry about flashlights. One of the benefits of staying at a hardware store was they had an entire shelf dedicated to flashlights and a display full of batteries.

Back at the store, Sif pulled up just as Loki and Thor were toting a mattress through the front door. “What’s that for?” she called as she hauled a case of bottled water out of her back seat. 

“Just in case,” Thor said. “We can hide under it if needs be.”

“Or sleep on top of it,” Loki said. 

“Build a fort with it?” Thor mused. 

“Live on it, when our homes are destroyed,” Sif said. “Good thinking.”

“Bed sharing,” Loki said, giving Sif a lascivious wink. 

“Snuggled between two hot men? I’d be down with that,” she replied. 

Thor and Loki had brought both of their queen-sized mattresses. Thor insisted the three of them could sleep on one mattress, but being the size of a small house, he alone took up at least a full half of a mattress, and that was assuming he didn’t shift or flail in his sleep. Sif was willing to share, but _share_ was the key word, and if she had to squish between the two brothers, there wouldn’t be enough room for all three of them. The second mattress meant Thor could have his own, and she could teach Loki the finer points of not hogging the bed covers. 

There had been significantly less tension around the office the last two days, mostly due to Loki and Sif flirting with each other instead of sniping at each other. Loki had yet to have a conversation with Thor, claiming hurricane preparation took precedence, which was his most recent in a long line of excuses to avoid emotional intimacy with people who cared about him. Sif hadn’t pressed the issue, knowing they’d be stuck inside the office during the storm and would have plenty of time for heavy conversations then.

The sky had been cloudy all day, but as the afternoon passed, the clouds darkened and the wind started picking up. By 6:00, rain was falling in sheets, and Sif couldn’t stand outside and stay upright in the face of the wind. “This is going to be bad, isn’t it?” she asked Thor, who was standing next to her. 

“Yes,” he said. “We made the right choice to shelter in a cinder block building.”

But was it the best choice? With the wind picking up, Sif wondered if they should have listened to the evacuation order after all.

Back inside the office, Loki was sitting on a mattress while listening to the radio, his face grim. “It’s officially a Category-5 hurricane,” he said, his words bringing a chill. Category-5. That meant the winds would be blowing at a minimum of 157 miles per hour. Sif shivered. 

“Who wants to play Uno!” Thor said, his usual cheer sounding a bit strained, but Sif appreciated his attempt to lighten the mood. No need to panic before they had to. 

Loki found the Uno cards and started shuffling, dealing all three of them in. They made it four rounds before the electricity went out and Thor had to turn on the battery-powered camping lantern. It wasn’t even 7:00, but it was pitch dark, the light from the lantern casting eerie shadows around the office. 

“Do you hear that?” Loki asked, and they all strained to listen to the howling of the wind.

“It sounds like the screams of the dying,” Thor said. Silence followed his words, and the screaming wind grew louder. 

“If that isn’t the best transition I ever heard,” Sif muttered, moving so she was flush against Loki. Lacing her fingers with his, she said, “Thor, Loki has some things he needs to say to you.”

“Really? In the middle of a hurricane? Shouldn’t we weather the storm first?” Loki asked, a touch too innocently.

She gave Loki a flat look. “We have twelve hours to kill, so start talking.”

Thor shook his head. “Don’t push him, Sif. Loki doesn’t respond well to prodding.”

“Yes, and you’re such an expert in what I respond well to,” Loki drawled.

Thor shrugged. “After spending a lifetime with you, I think I am.”

Loki snorted derisively. “Prince Thor, once again thinking he knows best.”

Thor clenched his jaw. “Don’t misinterpret my words, brother. I don’t think I know best; I just know you.”

“Golden child knows best.”

Sif snaked out her free hand and pinched Loki. “This is not how you win friends and influence people,” she told him. “Thor is your brother and you love him. Stop treating him like the slime you scrape off the bottom of your boot.”

Her words were punctuated by the roof rattling. Three sets of eyes looked up, but nothing further happened. “The building is secure, isn’t it?” Sif asked. 

“Yes,” Thor and Loki promptly replied, so confidently Sif had no room for worry. 

Neither brother continued the conversation. Not finding this acceptable, Sif intervened for them. They were not going to sit here for the next twelve or so hours without resolving this. “Thor,” she said, “did you know Loki is adopted?” 

Loki stiffened beside her and removed his hand from hers. He wasn’t fond of being touched when he was angry, so she let it go and scooted over an inch to give him room. 

“Of course,” Thor said. “I was present with he found out.”

“Present,” Loki scoffed, and Thor scowled.

“I was there, Loki, and I was just as surprised as you. Hadn’t Mother spent our whole lives telling us she had ancestors with pale skin and dark hair? Didn’t Father always say how you reminded him of his great uncle? I had no reason to suspect otherwise, any more than you did.”

“And yet you said nothing,” Loki sneered. “When faced with the prospect that we weren’t related, you didn’t even question it.”

“I was too shocked to respond. I had no words! And what could I have said to make the situation better?”

“You could have claimed me as your brother.”

“I didn’t know I needed to _re-_ claim you; I thought you already were my brother.”

“Yet you couldn’t get away from me fast enough. You started avoiding me at school, refused to sit with me at lunch, and no longer included me in the friend group.”

They were shouting now, drowning out the screams of the wind. “You could have sought me out instead of sniveling in the bathroom,” Thor snapped. “Perhaps instead of assuming I hated you, you could have spoken to me, sorted things out.”

Loki was glaring now. “I would have had to find you first. You were always hiding in your circle of friends, keeping Sif close as a buffer and keeping her from me.”

“You could have come after her at any point,” Thor said accusingly. “Or maybe spoken to her yourself. After all, I’m not her keeper.”

“Don’t bring me into this,” Sif said. “This fight is between you two, not about me.”

“Oh, you’re deeply entrenched in Odinson family politics, whether you like it or not,” Loki informed her. 

“Believe me, I know,” she muttered, but quietly enough they did not hear her.

A loud rattling from the store stole their attention. Knowing she needed to protect these two, Sif leapt up and made her way to the small window separating the office from the store. She couldn’t see anything, and the rattling ceased. She frowned; perhaps their building wasn’t as secure as they thought. 

“What is it?” Thor asked. She just shook her head. 

Returning to the mattress, Sif plopped herself down halfway between the brothers and gestured for them to continue. 

“I love you,” Thor blurted out, and for a second Sif thought he was confessing to her, before realizing he was looking at Loki. “You’re my brother, and I don’t like the rift that has grown between us.”

Loki looked conflicted, his eyes darting about as he processed Thor’s words. Please don’t say anything stupid, Sif mentally pleaded. 

“There’s more to it than adoption,” Loki said at length, then fell silent. 

“Yes?” Thor prompted.

Loki’s eyes were troubled as he spoke. “I don’t like admitting this.”

“Then don’t,” Thor said. “If it is this difficult for you to bring up, you need not speak it.”

Loki looked ill at ease as his eyes slid to Sif. “If I don’t, Sif may never speak to me again.”

“It’s true,” she supplied helpfully. “Communicating your problems is necessary to bring peace, and I will be most displeased if you withhold vital information.”

Loki sighed deeply, and Sif couldn’t tell if he was gearing up to speak to Thor or if he was expressing displeasure with her. He answered the question for her as he turned to Thor and said, “You treat me like I’m second best.”

“I do not!” Thor said, affronted.

Loki glowered. “This! This is precisely why I see no use in addressing this issue. You dismiss my concerns before they’re even fully voiced, and I’ve no desire to fight to make you understand my viewpoint.”

“How can I treat you as second best?” Thor cried. “I’ve always admired you, with your quick wit and wry sense of humor. Having you by my side has always been a delight.”

“You mean having me as your sidekick.”

“No one could mistake you for a sidekick, brother.”

“And yet you do, as do all your friends.” 

“What friends?” Thor demanded. “There is only you and Sif.”

It was true, but something about the words rang false, and Sif could see by Loki’s mounting anger that he thought so, too. “Then explain high school,” Loki demanded.

“You can’t be serious,” Thor said. “That was so long ago. Whatever perceived slight you’re holding on to--”

“Don’t dismiss my feelings,” Loki interrupted. “Just because you don’t like them or don’t understand them, doesn’t make them illegitimate.”

“And just because you’re adopted doesn’t make _you_ illegitimate,” Thor countered. 

“False equivalency,” Loki retorted. “I am illegitimate. I am the very definition of illegitimate.”

“Not to me, you aren’t,” Thor said. “You’re my brother.”

Loki snorted. “Excellent, using feelings to cover up what I really am.”

Thor threw his hands up. “This is why this conversation is pointless,” he said. “It doesn’t matter what I say or what I feel, because you won’t accept it. You accuse me of not caring about your high school feelings, yet you won’t even hear how I feel about you now, how I’ve _always_ felt about you. You’re so stuck in your own self-misery you assume the rest of us must hate you, too, and any evidence to the contrary you carelessly brush aside.”

“Evidence?” Loki scoffed. “What evidence, brother mine?” He managed to make the endearment seem a slur, and Sif could tell it hurt Thor. Without saying anything, Thor stood and moved to the other side of the office. Sif turned her disapproving gaze on Loki, who was looking triumphant. “What?” he asked. “Thor’s the one who left, not me. You can’t claim this is my fault.”

Sif shook her head. “He left because you hurt him. This is absolutely your fault.” Loki rolled his eyes and said nothing.

She had to be careful about how she acted now. To move to comfort Thor would signal to Loki that she cared more for his brother than him, but to stay would give legitimacy to his feelings and hurtful words. Sif dearly wished she wasn’t part of this fight, but as Loki so charmingly told her, she was entrenched in Odinson family politics whether she wanted to be or not. Standing, she moved to the window separating the office from the store. Neutral ground, somewhere in the middle, is what she chose for now. 

She wished there was another room for her to be in, but the storefront was made entirely of glass. With the wind whipping about as it was, and a promise of increased wind speed until well after the eyewall passed over them, it wasn’t safe to be in a room where that much glass could shatter all over her. Even with the windows covered by wood, there was too great a chance the windows would blow. 

Next time, we’re finding a cinder block building with _two_ secure rooms, she thought wryly. 

Close to an hour passed before Thor was willing to return to the mattress corner. Loki, being his petulant self, had turned his back to both of them. Sif rolled her eyes. She may love him, but she wasn’t immune to his childishness. Still, credit where credit was due. When Thor sat back down, Loki turned to his brother and raised an eyebrow, indicating his willingness to continue their dialogue. Sif nodded approvingly, but stayed by the window. This time, the brothers could fight it out without her.

Easier said than done, considering how badly she wanted to eavesdrop. On a normal day, she would have clearly heard their conversation, but the wind was picking up and made it difficult to overhear when the boys weren’t shouting. Instead she moved to the spot Thor had previously occupied and found the handheld radio, already tuned to the weather station. She turned it on.

“... _winds are already over 100 mph, and we’re still several hours out from the eyewall. Already the devastating effects are being seen across Florida’s beachfront towns. Power is down everywhere, and there is debris--”_

Sif turned it off. She was living the hurricane; she didn’t want a report on how devastating it was. She’d see with her own eyes as soon as the storm ended and she could leave Stud Finder. 

Sif occupied herself with daydreaming about a new apartment, a larger one that might have enough space for two people. She knew her place wouldn’t survive the storm, so house hunting was in her future. Of course, hundreds, maybe thousands, of other people would also be searching for new housing, and if most of the town was destroyed, it was going to be a competitive market. She grimaced; she really might be living in Stud Finder for a while. 

Maybe their next upgrade should be a shower…

Which reminded her, she had bodily functions that needed to be seen to. She was pleased to note the bathroom facilities were still in working order, and prayed that remained the case for the duration of the storm. 

Back in the office, Sif found Loki sprawled out near the radio, tossing a small ball up and down. Thor was similarly sprawled across the mattresses, both of them facing away from each other. With a sigh, Sif dropped next to her boyfriend. “Has the Odinson War commenced?” she asked him. 

“We’re having a recess,” Loki informed her as she snatched his ball out of midair. He gave her a tired smile.

She ran a hand through his hair. “Recess because you need time to process, or recess because the other option was a double homicide?”

“Somewhere in between,” Loki said, catching her hand and twining her fingers with his. “I’m not sure if I should be angry with you or pleased with you for forcing this confrontation.”

“You should be delighted that I care enough about you both to want you to fix your problems,” Sif said. “I could have just fed into your issues and driven a larger wedge between the two of you. Whether or not you’re willing to admit it, that would have hurt worse.”

Loki grunted, tugging her closer so he could wrap an arm around her. “I think my mother would have loved you,” he said.

“Your mother did love me,” she reminded him. “Even told me once or twice that she was willing to sell both of you down the river if she got me instead.” He laughed into her neck, a delightful sensation. Sif shivered. “She loved you, too. Unloved things she sent to Goodwill, and you were promised a river termination.” Loki laughed again, and Sif smiled. 

The wind punctuated their moment of quiet with loud howls, and Sif shivered for a different reason. The wind was definitely louder than it had been when this whole thing started, and she knew it would get louder still. But so long as their store held together, they should be fine. 

Something hit the outside of the building, and they both jumped. “Thank goodness for cinder blocks,” Loki murmured, tugging her closer.

“Thank goodness for a cuddle boyfriend,” Sif said, wrapping her arms around him. “Not that we can enjoy this for long; you and Thor have issues to address.”

“Maybe the hurricane will destroy our meager shelter and make that irrelevant,” Loki murmured. 

Sif pulled back enough to look at him. “You’d rather die than sort out your problems with your brother?” 

Loki shrugged. “There are worse fates. I could be languishing in a prison cell somewhere.”

She just shook her head. 

The wind had increased in intensity by the time Thor joined them in their corner of the office. “The roof is rattling,” he said, squatting next to them. Sif patted the floor, but he shook his head. “I’m worried it might fly off.”

“We’ll be fine,” Loki said dismissively. “Lee is not the first hurricane this building has survived.”

Sif eyed the ceiling. She was grateful for Loki’s confidence in their well being, but she shared Thor’s concerns. It was far too late to do anything about it, but perhaps they could come up with a plan of action if they did lose their roof. “We might have to huddle under those mattresses,” she said, eyes still on the ceiling. “Maybe drag our desks and the filing cabinets over for a makeshift barricade against the wind, and then pray really hard.”

“Mm, yes, I’ve always found thoughts and prayers to be incredibly effective,” Loki said.

“I’ll take prayers over nothing,” Thor said. “Effective or not, they can’t hurt.”

“Let’s get those desks moved,” Sif interjected before they could start a fight over religion.

“What for? It’s pointless,” Loki said. “Our roof will hold and we’ll have wasted the effort.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Sif said with a grunt as Thor helped her to her feet. 

They made short work of rearranging the office. The mattresses were placed in the back corner, as far away as possible from the windows separating the office from the store. Knowing full well she would regret it, Sif decided a smaller space was easier to defend and stacked the mattresses on top of each other. Besides being a smaller space, this way they could lie on one mattress while holding the other mattress atop them. She resigned herself to being squished between the two brothers, either as they saved themselves from mortal peril or while they slept the storm away. 

“It’s getting late,” Thor said, once the furniture was arranged. “We should probably get some sleep.”

“Sleep if you want,” Loki said dismissively. “I want to be awake for the eye. I’m fascinated by the calm in the middle of the storm.”

“Suit yourself,” Thor said, flinging himself atop the mattresses. He was asleep in moments.

“I hate how he does that,” Loki said sourly. “Without a care in the world, Thor can fall asleep any time, anywhere. Are you joining him?”

Sif shook her head and led Loki to the other side of the office. “I’ll stay up a little bit longer,” she said, “but I might not make it to the eye, if it takes too long.” 

Pulling her close, Loki dropped a kiss on her head. “I’ve often wondered: if magic was real, when casting a spell in the midst of a storm, would it amplify or diminish the value of the spell?”

“I suppose that would depend on the magic system you’re using,” Sif mused. “I imagine elemental magic would be amplified by a storm.”

“That makes sense,” Loki said, “predicated upon the assumption that the wielder is using elemental magic. But what about just magic? How would a storm affect that?”

“Would it?” Sif asked. “If the magic isn’t elemental, why would the storm have any effect whatsoever upon spellcasting?”

“Great forces of nature always have an effect upon magic,” Loki murmured, staring through the ceiling. Sif wondered what his inner eye was seeing. “Everything is connected to nature, after all, even inanimate objects and technology. No thing would be in existence if there weren’t beings around to create them, beings who rely upon nature to survive.”

“Processed food,” Sif suggested.

“Still nature-based. The people who make it eat food of the earth, drink water of the stream, and need the sun.”

“My cell phone?”

“Made by people who consume nature.”

“Rocks.”

“Still nature.”

“But non-living.”

“We didn’t differentiate between living and non-living,” Loki said dismissively. “And even if we did, the stone is still acted upon by nature. Rushing water smooths the rock edges, the sun heats the surface area of the rock, plants grow around rocks, and people utilize rocks for a variety of purposes, from building materials to garden ornaments.”

“Where is this coming from?” Sif asked. “Magic doesn’t exist.”

“I know,” he said with a twist of his mouth, but didn’t elaborate further. 

The roof started rattling again, the noise almost too loud as it reverberated throughout the office, and this time it didn’t stop. Worry drew Sif’s mouth down and furrowed her brows. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

Even Loki now had a trace of worry in his eyes, though he banished it when he looked at her. “We’ll be fine,” he said. “Trust in the structural integrity of our store.”

“I think it’s time to retire to bed,” she said, moving to do so. “Let’s wake Thor and get under the top mattress.”

“You go,” Loki said, entirely too casually. “I want to remain here a while longer.”

Sif paused her step, one-eightying to face Loki. “Are you avoiding your brother?” she demanded.

“What? No,” Loki scoffed.

“You are,” she said. “Stars above, Loki, he’s asleep. Whatever issues you have to deal with you can avoid until morning.”

He leveled a gaze at her. “Thank you for being so overly concerned with our relationship,” he said dryly, “but there is more to my life than my issues with my brother. So I thank you for your concern, and send you off to bed--”

“-- _With_ your brother,” Sif interjected, just to needle him. His lips twisted slightly, but otherwise he gave no indication she’d spoken. 

“--with my _blessing_ and wish that you pass a peaceful night.”

Sif rolled her eyes, dropping a kiss on Loki’s forehead before heading to the mattress. As predicted, Thor had sprawled out, taking up most of the bed. Sif shoved him over, a more onerous task than initially expected due to Thor’s excessive bulk. Muscle weight was _heavy_ , she thought, shoving him into the corner. 

For all her efforts, once Sif was under the blanket, she remembered she’d wanted to huddle under the mattress. Eyeing the slumbering Thor, she decided they were fine as they were. She did not relish the task of waking him just to assuage her worry. If we die, we die, she thought, taking no comfort in the sentiment. 

Still, sleep did not come. Her body was weary enough to welcome it, but the rattling roof was proving too distracting. Overtop the rattling she could hear the screams of the wind, blocking out any other noise in the store. If they weren’t in the eyewall already, they would be soon. Sif shivered, knowing if the winds tore off the roof there wasn’t much they could do unless it happened before the eye of the storm. She didn’t know how long the eye would last, but maybe when it passed they could run outside and do a rough repair job on the roof.

Assuming they could even get outside. There might be too much debris blocking the door. 

The winds screamed, a haunting sound. With each passing minute, the intensity and noise increased, and Sif started to feel real fear. The roof moved passed rattling into full on shaking, and she could feel the wind coming in through gaps and holes she couldn’t see.

At last, the wind seemed to cease. She could still hear it, but compared to the angry howls of moments before, it seemed almost peaceful. “Well, that was terrifying,” Thor whispered beside her. She turned her head to see him wide awake. “Not even the dead could sleep through that,” he said. “I’m not looking forward to the other side of the eye.”

Sitting up, Sif glanced to where Loki was sitting. He was staring at the roof, a look of ecstasy on his face. Was he thinking of elemental magic again, or was he just reveling in the violence of the storm? 

Tossing back the blanket, Thor agilely leapt over the desks and filing cabinets blocking their little nest and said, “I’m going to check on the roof. Honestly, I’m surprised we still have one intact.”

Sif quietly followed him, finding her shoes where she’d discarded them. Loki didn’t acknowledge them, still staring at the ceiling.

There was debris blocking the door, but Thor and Sif together easily shoved it aside. Once they were past their plywood barrier, they both pulled up short. There were no street lamps to illuminate the dark, but the break in the storm clouds due to the eye provided just enough light to see downed trees everywhere. Cars were tossed haphazardly all over, including their company truck, with windows smashed and metal frames crumpled. Debris was everywhere, some of it identifiable as signs or parts of buildings, but a lot of it was unidentifiable chunks. Uprooted plants and _stuff_ littered the ground everywhere.

Thor let out an amazed whistle. “And that’s just the first half of the storm,” he said quietly. Sif was too stunned to say anything. They weren’t even halfway through the storm; she couldn’t imagine the havoc yet to be wreaked. 

At least they weren’t also battling storm surge. Most of the damage from a hurricane came from the wind, but being feet-deep in water certainly wouldn’t make anything easier. 

“We need to get moving,” Sif said, leading the way to the back of the building where a ladder gave roof access. “Who knows how long the eye will last, and we don’t want to be out when the winds pick up.”

Thor followed her up the ladder, toolbox in hand. Debris littered the roof as well, but it was easy to push aside. Sif wasn’t trained in roof repair, so she couldn’t locate any areas in need of attention. Thor pointed out that without an obvious hole, it was better to reinforce as much of the metal sheeting as possible before the eye moved passed--they were more interested in saving their skin rather than the roof looking pretty. He handed her a hammer and aluminum nails, and they both set to work hammering the edges of the roof, starting with the corner where their mattresses were located. 

They reinforced roughly one-fourth of the roof before the winds started picking up again. Wordlessly they packed up the tools and shimmied down the ladder, making a run for the front door. Once it was securely locked behind them both, Sif and Thor shared a worried look, but there was nothing more they could do now. 

Back in the office, Loki was still sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring at the ceiling looked blissed-out. Thor’s face contorted into a scowl as he marched over to his brother and roughly shoved at Loki’s shoulder. “Sif and I were out there risking our necks for our continued safety, and you’re sitting here staring at the ceiling?”

Loki shot Thor an annoyed look, rubbing his shoulder. “I’m thinking deeply, a practice I’m sure you’re unfamiliar with.”

Thor crossed his thick arms. “We were doing actual work, and you were _staring at the ceiling_.” 

“Work of the mind is not unworthy, though those of you who work with your hands dismiss it as unimportant.” 

“If you’d been doing actual work, I wouldn’t have such a problem with it!” Thor yelled, straining to be heard over the quickly-increasing winds. “But you weren’t crunching numbers or developing new ideas or putting in orders for more supplies! You were sitting there _staring at the ceiling_ , the most useless occupation known to man!”

“Again, _deep thinking._ ”

“About what!”

The wind was already screaming, the roof rattling once again, though somewhat subdued compared to the rattling from the other side of the eye. The quick patch job was doing some good; Sif just hoped it was enough.

“--could have used your help!” Thor was bellowing at his brother. Sif privately agreed, but there was no use saying so at this point. They couldn’t go back in time and force Loki to assist, and yelling at him now was only going to put his guard up. 

“You aren’t angry about the roof,” Loki yelled back. “You’re angry that I sit behind a fancy desk all day while you go out and pound nails into Mrs. Cassini’s walls. You’ve always valued the physical over the mental, and now you’ve finally manned up enough to admit you think my work is pointless!”

“Yes, in comparison, it is! A man needs to know how to use his hands!”

“But he would be better served by knowing how to use his brain!”

A good man knew how to use both, in Sif’s opinion, but neither brother was asking her. 

A loud screeching interrupted the fight, and suddenly there was fierce wind in the office, shoving everything around. Fear momentarily gripped Sif, but they’d prepared for this. It was too loud for voices to be heard, so she gestured at Thor and Loki to follow her to the mattress corner. Lifting the top mattress, she and Loki slid under. Thor paused, turning to face something unidentifiable. 

“THOR!!” Sif screamed, but the wind snatched away her voice so she couldn’t even hear herself. Loki beside her was shouting, too, his words also swallowed by the storm. Whatever took Thor’s attention didn’t hold it, and the blonde turned to join them in their makeshift fort. As he lifted his right foot, something came flying at him and struck him in the side. Blood spurted everywhere, flung about by the wind, and Thor’s face paled drastically. 

Sif held the top mattress up as Loki grabbed his brother about the waist and threw him onto the bottom mattress. Angling herself to hold the mattress over them, Sif made sure there was just enough room for Loki to hover over his brother, hands pressing desperately into Thor’s wound.

Loki’s face was a picture of anguish, his eyes wide and panicked as his hands were slowly covered in Thor’s blood. Staring at his lips, she could just make out Loki yelling that Thor wasn’t going to make it. Panic seized Sif; this was in no way her fault, but she felt like it was, like she should have done a better job guarding her beloved friend, risking her safety long before his. He never would have stood for it, but it was her job to keep him--and Loki--safe. 

The wind whipped viciously at the mattress, and it took all of Sif’s strength to hold it in place, keeping them safe from the sudden debris flung about the room. Adrenaline coursed through her veins; if she failed, if she let the mattress slip for even one second, it could mean the end of them all. 

Tears were streaming down Loki’s face, his crinkled eyes flashing between panic and anxiety. In that moment, Sif knew none of the brothers’ quarrels mattered one iota. If Thor succumbed to his wound, Loki would be forever left with the memory of belittling Thor before watching him bleed out in his arms.

Tears wet Sif’s cheeks, but she couldn’t risk so much as a twitch to wipe them away. Thor… Thor was the best of them. He was kind, he was loving, he was fierce and devoted and loyal to a fault and the world would be bereft at his loss. “Please keep him safe,” Sif whispered, her words snatched away as she uttered them. “ _Please_. Whatever force or power is out there in the universe, _let him live through the night._ ”

All she could do was hold on tight to the mattress and pray. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not at all sorry about last chapter. 😁

Loki was in a daze by the time the winds started dying down, a long and painfully slow process. His arms had gone numb after hours of pressing down on the wound in Thor’s side, and he’d forgotten what it was like to feel fingers at the end of his hands. The bleeding had crawled to a stop some hours ago, but Loki wasn’t going to twitch until he knew they could leave for help--if help was even available. 

Sif was the true hero of the night. She’d held the mattress in place against the buffeting winds, keeping them protected against all odds. She must have had an adrenaline surge to stay in place for hours on end, holding the heavy mattress in place to protect them. Whatever love Loki thought he’d felt for her increased twofold watching her save their lives. 

Thor was unconscious, having long since passed out. Loki monitored the rise and fall of Thor’s chest. So long as Thor kept breathing, there was a chance he could survive this mess, and Loki was clinging to any desperate thread of hope.

Suddenly Sif was at his side, having tossed aside the mattress. The wind was gone, the storm clouds had parted, and there was a trickle of sunshine in the partly-roofless office. Loki blinked. They’d sat awake the whole night, with bloodshot eyes to prove it, outlasting the wicked storm. 

“Is he still…?” Sif whispered, and in response Thor shifted with a grunt.

“Still alive,” Loki said hoarsely. “We need to get him to a hospital, or this will have all been for naught.”

“You’re going to have to release the pressure,” Sif said quietly. “We need to move him.” In the back of his mind, Loki vaguely recalled being taught in school that one shouldn’t move a trauma victim as it increased the likelihood of further injury, but they didn’t have many options. 

The office was trashed, the kind of mess that would have made his mother take to her bed in despair, and that was to say they had been partially shielded by the walls. He was sure outside was much worse, and would be surprised if there were any passable roads, let alone stretches for vehicles to drive--assuming, of course, there were any vehicles left intact. 

The nearest hospital was about five miles away. Loki could easily maintain a seven-minute mile, but that was with proper shoes and no 220 lb load on his back. Even with Sif’s help, they’d be lucky to make it to the hospital within two hours, and all this was assuming Thor didn’t reopen his wound and bleed out before they left Stud Finder. Or that the hospital was even functioning, or that someone was there at all to greet them.

Thor’s going to die, isn’t he.

The thought sat heavy in Loki’s heart. Suddenly all the fighting and old wounds didn’t matter. Who cared whether or not Thor knew about Loki’s adoption, if he was dead? What did it matter that Odin played favorites, if the favorite wasn’t around to bicker with? 

Sif cradled Loki’s face, pressing her forehead to his. “Thor will be okay,” she murmured, planting a soft kiss between Loki’s eyes. 

“You don’t know that,” Loki said, drawing in a ragged breath.

“But I refuse to believe anything else,” she said firmly. “Until we are embracing Thor’s cold dead body, then there is a chance he will survive.”

Her quiet confidence bolstered him enough move Thor. Taking in a deep breath for courage, Loki carefully peeled his bloodstained hands from his brother--

And froze. 

Where there should have been an open gaping wound there was only a pink scar. The skin was covered in dried blood, but there was no open wound. 

Defying all odds, Thor had healed overnight. 

“How…?” Loki whispered, thoughts jumbled together. 

“That can’t be,” Sif said, steadying herself with one hand on Loki’s shoulder.

It made no sense. This defied all logic and reason, and Loki could not justify what he was seeing with what he knew of the universe. Even if Thor had only been hit with a paperclip, there would still be an angry red mark. It wouldn’t look weeks healed. 

There had to be a reasonable explanation. Scrambling off the mattress, Loki searched frantically through the debris on the floor for traces of Thor’s blood. There was a lot of it; Thor had bled quite a bit, indicating something large pierced his side, but Loki couldn’t dwell on that. The object had to be found and it had to be small to explain away Thor’s miraculously healed wound. It had to be here somewhere.

“What are you doing?” Sif asked. She was still by Thor, smoothing back his hair off his forehead. “This is a miracle. We should be rejoicing, or praying, or drinking champagne, not rummaging about the floor through the trash heaps.”

“It’s got to be here somewhere,” Loki muttered, shifting aside stained file folders and papers. “The blood is heaviest right here.”

“Loki,” Sif said. Loki ignored the concern in her voice. 

“It’s here somewhere, Sif,” he said, diving under a giant chunk of plaster that did not come from their cinder block building. “And I’m going to find it!”

Fervently, Loki sifted through the garbage on the floor. The size of the wound indicated the object was of a decent size, but the healed wound indicated it must be small. Or perhaps it just grazed Thor? Maybe side injuries bled massively, like head wounds? Loki wasn’t a doctor; it’s not like he would know. 

( _You do know_ , the back of his mind whispered, but he ignored it.)

At last he found the offending projectile. It was a length of metal, unidentifiable in origin, about six inches long, the width a jagged edge ranging between two and six inches wide. It was covered in dried blood that had turned a rusty brown, some of it flaking off as Loki held it. 

Loki felt lost. There was no way a piece of metal this large had caused a wound that _healed overnight._

“Do I need to worry that I haven’t had a tetanus booster since I was a teenager?” Thor said weakly. Loki snapped his head up to see his brother awake, head resting on Sif’s thigh so Thor could observe Loki’s mad search. He looked thoroughly exhausted and like he had lost a lot of blood, incongruous with his healed scar. “I’m starving,” Thor said. “Please tell me our food stores are in one piece.”

Food. It had been too many hours since Loki last ate. That, combined with staying up all night worrying over his brother’s life, hit Loki all of a sudden and he swayed with exhaustion, leaning heavily against an overturned desk that was several feet from where it had been barricaded early last evening. 

“Loki!” Sif cried out, reaching toward him, looking between the two brothers, trying to figure out which one she should assist. They both waved her toward the other. Loki smiled, the insiest bit.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Nothing a little food won’t fix.”

“Hear, hear!” Thor said, already sounding stronger. “Let’s find something to eat, then assess the damage to our property and have a lengthy discussion over why I’m not dead.”

Thor, thinking with his stomach. Volstagg would be proud. 

Loki huffed to himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he thought of their old friend Volstagg, the human garbage disposal. 

He furrowed his brow. That wasn’t right; Volstagg was Thor’s friend, not his. A tiny seed of resentment left from their high school days reared its ugly head, but Loki tamped it down. He’d just nearly lost his brother; he wasn’t about to ruin the moment with old resentments. Thor was right; it had no place in their relationship, and Loki was only making things worse by holding on to old hurts. 

If only Sif could read minds--she’d be so proud of him. 

“Let me find something to eat,” Sif said, leaving her place at Thor’s side to shimmy off the mattress in search of something edible. 

“No,” Loki said, halting her movement. “You’re exhausted; you spent the entire night holding a mattress over our heads against hurricane-force winds. I’ll find food.”

Sif shook her head firmly. “You’re more exhausted,” she said. “You held Thor’s wound together all night, a physically and emotionally draining job. You rest while I find food. Plus, it’s my job.”

“Since when?”

“Since always. Leave me to it.”

Loki exchanged looks with Thor. “She thinks she’s our mother,” he told his brother.

“Or our protector,” Thor said, amused. 

“I did hold up a mattress all night long protecting you two blockheads,” Sif said, irritated. “It’s not open for debate, Loki. I’ll find food. You sit and regale Thor with tales of the tears you shed over his nearly lifeless form.”

Loki stiffened right up. Recently rediscovered affection or not, Sif had no right to inform _Thor_ of it. 

Thankfully Thor didn’t seem to notice, busy inspecting the pool of dried blood he was lying in. “Is this all mine?” he asked in amazement, sitting up to inspect the blood. It must have pulled at his healing wound, for he winced and lay back down. “That’s a lot of blood. Perhaps you ought to find me an IV and a bag of blood instead.”

Loki, not known for following instructions, was helping Sif sift through the piles of trash covering their floor. He found a can of beans, about twenty feet from where the food had been stacked yesterday, and soon found a can of pears. Sif triumphantly held up a smashed loaf of bread, and a few moments later found a half-eaten jar of peanut butter. Breakfast of champions. Now if only they could find silverware. 

During their search, Sif maintained conversation with Thor. “If your miraculously healed wound means you’ve become a vampire, I’m quitting and moving to Washington state.”

“Vampire? Me?” Thor said, aghast. “Loki’s the pasty one. Toss your accusations his way!” 

“Can’t,” Sif said, shifting around a pile of papers with her foot. “I still want him to kiss me once in a while, and calling him a vampire is a very good way to prevent that from happening.”

Vampire. As if Loki would ever consent to being anything so mundane. Should he become a creature of the paranormal, it would be some creature magnificent and rare, preferably something that struck fear, or perhaps undying loyalty, into the hearts of all who came across him. He would never consent to being something so pedestrian as a vampire. 

Silverware was lost under the mess, but a stray letter opener sufficed for spreading peanut butter. Loki wasn’t quite sure what to do with a can of beans and no stove, but Sif reminded him that eating cold food, though not enjoyable, wasn’t going to result in starvation or death. However, without a spoon, eating the beans became a game of Drink It But Don’t Spill It. Loki was particularly adept at this, while Thor managed to dump half the contents of the can all over himself. As no one took him up on his offer to lick the beans off him, he ended up with a larger portion than Sif and Loki combined.

Personally, Loki was just grateful Sif hadn’t even joked about licking Thor. She may be with Loki, but Loki, ever aware that he was inferior to his brother, was constantly worried she’d realize she’d made a mistake and chase after Thor. 

Once they were fed, Thor promptly fell asleep. Sif brushed his hair off his forehead, checking for a fever, which she announced his did not have. “I don’t know how he did it,” she told Loki quietly, “but Thor is definitely on the mend, though we should be gentle with him for a day or two as he regains his strength.” Looking down at the large bloodstain, her lips twisted. “Of course, he had to go and ruin one of our mattresses.”

Naturally, Thor had bled out on Loki’s mattress. Loki’s throat constricted; he couldn’t even pretend indignancy. He was too grateful Thor was alive. 

Not that he was ever going to say that aloud. The last thing Thor needed was another stroke for his ego. “He can sleep on the unsullied half,” Loki said. “I’ll take the blood-free bed.”

“And I’m to sleep on the floor?” Sif asked, eyebrows up.

“You’ll return home, of course,” Loki said, but Sif shook her head.

“Look around us, Loki,” she said, sweeping her arms across the room. “This happened in a cinder block building. My apartment, crafted from the sturdy material of drywall and vinyl, is no doubt in a heap, if not completely blown away. I live here now.”

The idea of living with Sif sent a pleasant tingle down Loki’s back. “You may share my bed,” he said, affecting martyrdom, “though steal the blankets, and I’ll push you onto the floor.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I’m not the blanket thief, and you know it,” she said, far too smug for Loki’s liking. 

Rather than answer, Loki looked up, eyeing the ceiling. “Let’s all hope it doesn’t rain, as our cover is barely sufficient.”

“Not rain? In Florida?” Sif said with a snort. Gracefully she climbed to her feet, picking her way to the door. “Only part of our roof is gone; I think the store’s still fully covered. Let’s move our bedding in there, and at least we can sleep secure tonight.”

Easier said than done. The store wasn’t as messy as the office, but enough wind had made it in that there were loose parts scattered about the floor, and a variety of shelves taking up floor space meant there wasn’t an area large enough for a mattress, let alone two. Rolling up their figurative sleeves, Sif set to work clearing the floor while Loki emptied shelves in preparation of being shoved aside.

They didn’t speak, each engrossed in their task, leaving Loki’s mind to dwell on his brother. Thor’s wound… It had been far worse than it now looked; Loki still had the bloodstained hands to prove it. He made a mental note to clean his hands, though how or when he didn’t know, as the only water they currently had was appointed for drinking. He was not going to waste their precious potable water for something as insignificant as cleaning.

They were just far enough inland that hiking to the ocean was out of the question, but perhaps if they made contact with a relief station he could get cleaned up. Thor, too, for that matter. No point in him miraculously surviving if he just died of infection.

So how had his brawny brother managed to overcome his wound with nothing more than the pressure of Loki’s hands tending to it? Loki was no paramedic, but even he knew that pressure wasn’t enough to close a laceration like Thor’s. 

If Loki believed in the power of prayer, he might attribute this to God, but Loki wasn’t one for praying and certainly hadn’t been doing it last night. A guardian angel, perhaps, but Loki didn’t believe in those, either. 

Surely there were options Loki couldn’t think of, but all Loki could conclude was this: either God was real and a miracle had occurred, or Thor was some sort of supernatural being who healed extraordinarily quickly.

Loki scowled. If Thor was supernatural, it only widened the gulf between the two brothers. Thor could claim Loki’s adoption made no difference at all, but Loki wasn’t the one healing unnaturally fast.

Sif finished clearing the floor before Loki was done with the shelves and moved to assist him. Together they made quick work of the shelves, piling most of their inventory behind the counter. The shelves were bolted to the floor, a suddenly major fact both parties had neglected to notice before tossing all the wrenches at the bottom of the pile of hardware supplies. It took nearly twenty minutes of searching before they found a suitable tool, and then only one. Loki left Sif to unbolt the shelves while he checked on Thor, who was still slumbering like a babe. Noticing the bloodstained shirt, Loki added _find clean clothes_ to his ever-increasing list of things to do. 

The office was a complete disaster. His computer screens were smashed and tossed against the far wall. Hopefully their data was retrievable, though Loki sincerely doubted it. Papers were everywhere, office supplies covering every surface. Personal items were in shambles, if they were at all identifiable, and interspersed with roofing, insulation, tree branches, and dirt. He could see bits and pieces of other buildings strewn about the floor. Loki did not envy whoever had to clean this up. 

Oh wait, that will be me, he thought wryly. 

Back in the store, Sif had shifted the shelves just enough to fit both mattresses. “We have more important things to do than make room for our makeshift beds,” she said. 

“Like clearing a footpath between the beds and the store?” Loki asked. “Our office is a nightmare.”

“We’ll save that until Thor wakes up,” she said. “Let him get as much rest as he can. We’re heading out to see what’s still intact out there.”

Not much, as it turned out. Every structure within eyesight that wasn’t made out of cinder blocks was completely destroyed. Debris was _everywhere_ , and almost every tree had been knocked over. Leaves and branches littered the ground and the debris. “Good thing Thor doesn’t need a hospital,” Loki murmured. “Dying would be a mercy compared to being hauled over all this junk.”

They scrawled a note for Thor in case he woke up, then spent two hours searching for signs of civilization. There was nobody nearby and nothing in tact, so they picked a direction and started walking. Their path was not as direct as it would be on any other day, due to the debris they had to navigate around. Not a single structure was left untouched by the hurricane; there was devastation everywhere Loki looked.

They only saw a handful of people on their journey, all of whom looked shell shocked. One man said he and his family hunkered down in his crawl space, thankfully surviving unhurt. Another woman with vacant eyes and a hollow voice clutched a tiny baby as she said that her husband died shortly after the eye passed over, suffering impalement similar to Thor. Loki shivered, once again grateful for the miracle that was his brother’s surviving. 

Four people were sitting on a log, staring into the distance. When asked, they confessed to heading for the hospital with their wounded friend, who died an hour into the journey. They didn’t know what to do with the body, since most of their phones were dead, and the few that worked had no service and no internet anyway, what with the cell towers down. Who could they call? 

Sif slipped her hand into Loki’s, and in silence they continued.

At the end of two hours, Sif pulled them to a halt. “We should go back,” she said, wiping the sweat off her forehead. “We haven’t found anything besides other survivors, and we should make our place habitable before nightfall. Thor’s bound to be awake by now, and the last thing we need is him re-injuring himself as he moves about. Tomorrow we can get an early start and look for the National Guard or an aid station and figure something out.”

“Or we could just clear out the store and the office, then start clearing the parking lot and the roads near Stud Finder,” Loki countered. 

“And do what with the debris?”

“Pile it on the side of the road. We can worry about waste management after we make contact with the authorities.”

She gave a considering nod. “You’re right, of course,” she said. “Plus that’ll help clear the way for emergency vehicles, should they need access to our neck of the woods.”

“And lucky us,” Loki said, “we happen to know the location of a good hardware store with all the work gloves, shovels, and saws we could need.”

She smiled. “Lucky us, indeed,” she murmured. 

**  
**

Back at the store, Thor had proudly cleared a path from his bloodstained mattress to the office door. “I did something!” he said cheerfully. “And I only had to stop and rest twice. I can barely feel my injury at all. I feel great, for someone who nearly died!” 

Sif hurried to his side, frowning as she lifted his ragged shirt to inspect the laceration. It looked even better than it had this morning. In another day or two, he’d hardly be able to tell the skin had ever been broken, let alone nearly killed him. 

It was unnatural. No would could heal that fast, even with the marvels of modern medicine--which they did not currently have access to. This healing… There was something different about Thor, much as Sif didn’t want to admit it. The only question was, what? Was he still human, with the superhuman ability to heal? Or was he alien?

Worse, what was she?

In all the hubbub over Thor’s injury, no one had asked Sif about holding the mattress over their heads all night long. Holding a mattress up like that for hours on end was miraculous enough, but to do it while Category-5 hurricane winds buffeted them from every side? And she only felt the tiniest bit sore afterward? Impossible. 

Whatever Thor was, Sif was beginning to suspect she was, too. 

She remembered the shelves in the store, bolted securely to the floor. Any normal man would have struggled to unbolt them with the help of power tools, while she effortlessly used a manual wrench to unscrew the bolts. Unnerved by the ease of removing them, she’d only shifted the shelves enough to make room for the mattress, hoping Loki wouldn’t notice anything amiss. They had yet to speak of Thor’s miraculous healing, but she knew Loki, and his first response would be jealousy. Add in her seemingly supernatural strength, and he would pout for days, insisting he’d known all along he was subpar and didn’t fit in with them. 

Not to mention there was no way to tell someone you thought you were a freak of nature. 

“We need to get you cleaned up,” Sif said, patting Thor’s side. Side-eyeing Loki’s hands, she added, “You, too.”

“We’re not wasting precious drinking water on this,” Loki said. 

Shifting debris while in search of her medkit, Sif said conversationally, “Did you know that the biggest killer in the Middle Ages was unhygienic living conditions? A little soap and water could have saved a lot of people a lot of misery.”

“Yes, I passed public school, too,” Loki said dryly. “But were you aware that three days without water can kill a man? If my choices are cleaning my hands and drinking, I choose life.”

“Can we choose both?” Thor asked. “This is modern America, and even if our water isn’t working, eventually help will bring in more.”

“You’re willing to bank on the assistance of others?” Loki asked skeptically. 

“People are generally good,” Thor said, and Loki snorted. 

“Aha!” Sif exclaimed, holding up her medkit. It was homemade, stuffed in an ice cream bucket. Besides containing the expected supplies, she had a tidy stash of antibacterial hand wipes. Tossing one to each of the brothers, she said, “There is more than one way to get clean in modern America.”

“I think we both would have died without her here,” Thor said fondly, opening his wipe and swiping at the dried blood on his stomach. Sif winced, but since it was no longer an open wound, there was no point in chastising him for wiping instead of dabbing. “Sif, I hereby promote you to whatever position you want. My job? You can have it. Loki’s job? You can have it, too.”

“Yes, you may have my job in addition to yours,” Loki said. “Exactly the prize you were hoping for, I’m certain.”

“I want part ownership,” Sif said. “Then I can boss you two around.”

“You already boss us around,” Thor said, conspicuously not agreeing to her term. 

Not that it mattered. At the moment, their store was in desperate need of repairs, and with the roads the way they were, no customers would have access anyway, assuming anybody was left. At least Stud Finder was a useful store, giving them a solid chance of maintaining business in the coming weeks and months. They could have been a novelty store, where no one would be shopping in the aftermath of a natural disaster. 

“We need to sort out our priorities,” she said, “determine what needs to be done immediately and what can wait, and take stock of what we have that can help out the community. And figure out what we need. _Need,_ not want,” she said, holding a finger up to stall Loki’s undoubtedly sarcastic remark. “Because wants aren’t a priority at the moment. Survival is.”

“That means we need shelter, food, water, and clothes,” Thor said.

“The store side is intact, so we can shelter in there,” Loki said, “which means moving over there.” He glanced distastefully at the blood-soaked bed, and Sif grimaced. All three of them were going to have to squish onto the clean mattress. Maybe they could sleep in shifts. 

“Our food is enough to get us through at least two weeks,” Sif said, “assuming we can find it. That means organizing the mess of our office is a priority, so we can find the food and water we do have.”

“And the clothes,” Thor said. “I’ve got an extra shirt somewhere in that pile.”

“How are you not dead?” Loki interjected. “You should be.”

“You sound so disappointed, brother.”

“Disbelieving, not disappointed. How?”

There was a moment of silence as all three of them looked at Thor’s wound. The scar was hardly visible now, especially with all the blood wiped up. The mood turned somber. “Let’s just be grateful for now,” Sif said softly. “We can figure out the how later, when we have time to devote to non-essential pursuits.”

The first order of business was organizing the debris pile that was their office. Thor paused to rest often, but managed to maintain a steady stream of dialogue that filled the silence. Sif was grateful for her cheery friend, because she didn’t think she had the stamina to be pleasant for that long, and she knew Loki had already used up his affability for the day. Loki said little except to curse when he dropped yet another piece of debris on his foot, but he didn’t seem to mind letting Sif order him about. Once, when Thor was trudging back to the mattress to sit, Loki sidled over to Sif and pinched her rear. She smacked his hand away, but couldn’t stop a grin from spreading. At least one thing would remain normal.

Organizing the debris into different piles took a little over two hours, but they finally had a stack of canned food and water bottles, and a pile of clothes that were questionably clean but at least in one piece. All office supplies and pieces large enough to be identified as part of the office ended up in one corner, while all the building and external debris was piled along the back wall. They didn’t have unobstructed access to an exit yet, so the debris would remain there for the time being. 

While Thor rested, Loki and Sif made quick work of moving their supplies into the store, stashing it all behind the cash register counter. When they finished, Thor was sitting on the bloodied mattress, poking at his side. Sif desperately wanted to speak to him alone, so she sent Loki outside to take stock of their yard while she and Thor moved the bed. 

She ordered Thor to sit and rest while she moved the clean mattress, an easy task, then sat together with him on the soiled one. “Something’s different about me,” Thor said without preamble, “and I know you want to talk about it without Loki around feeling inferior.”

“Not just you,” she replied in a low voice. “I’m...stronger than I should be.”

“Ah,” Thor said delicately. “And there’s nothing like you and I having something in common to send Loki into a true tailspin.”

She nodded grimly.

“How much stronger?” Thor asked.

“I held a mattress over our heads against hurricane force winds and didn’t break a sweat,” she said flatly. He eyed her appreciatively. “Say something about entering me into a wrestling competition, and I’ll hit you,” she said conversationally. 

“Actually, I was wondering if I am also strong.”

They stared at each other for a moment before Sif raised both of her eyebrows and said, “I know how we can find out.”

Ten minutes later, all the shelves in the store had been unbolted and shoved as far back as possible, a job that should have taken an hour, minimum, with power tools and several strong men. “We can never tell Loki,” Thor said, surveying their work. “He’ll hold this over my head forever.”

“Our heads,” Sif amended.

“True, ours,” Thor said. “And he’ll blame it on being adopted, which doesn’t make sense as you are not related to me.”

“I’ve found an upset Loki rarely makes sense,” Sif said with a touch of fondness she would not be feeling if Loki were standing in front of them.

“Come, let’s flip the bloodied mattress and move it in here so I can have a place to sleep. At least we can please Loki by not all sleeping on the same bed.”

**  
**

It was too late, of course, for Loki already knew.

Not an idiot, he realized Sif sent him outside for a private moment with Thor. He couldn’t hear them inside the office, but left the front door open so he could eavesdrop when they moved into the store. Under normal circumstances that would have been difficult with a storefront of windows, but with all the windows still boarded up, he sat just outside the door and listened to their mutual discovery of inhuman strength. 

Loki had never smoked before, but he wished for a cigarette now. Sif was correct about his temperament, but he did not mean to give her the satisfaction of knowing it. He planned to sit out here until his voice was smooth and he could affect disinterest. 

Neither a blood relation nor a freak. Who would have expected that to be his biggest disappointment the day after a major hurricane? 


	5. Chapter 5

Five days post hurricane, Sif woke to a loud snort from Thor as he settled back into his mattress, bringing momentary relief from his thundering snores. She was grateful to be dating the brother who didn’t snore, but Loki being a quiet sleeper didn’t help when they shared an echo-chamber of a bedroom with the king of snores himself.

Curled against Loki’s chest, she raised her eyes to trace his face. It was nice to see him relaxed in sleep without the cares of the world weighing on his face. He was developing a line between his brows from all the scowling he did, though it did nothing to diminish his attractiveness.

He’d been unusually quiet these past days, staring around with pursed lips and keeping his usual barbs to himself. He refused to open up to Sif or Thor, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to determine his worries stemmed from the state of the store. As predicted, neither of their homes survived the wind damage. Sif’s home was gone entirely, while the bones of Loki’s and Thor’s home were still intact, but little else. It made repairing Stud Finder difficult as much of the floor space was now occupied with mattresses and the few belongings they still possessed. Even if the community was ready to start purchasing tools, they'd have a hard time maneuvering around the temporary living space. No doubt Loki's silence and pinched face were in regards to the family finances. 

Sif and Thor spent their days assisting with debris removal around town. Their newfound super strength made cleanup very easy, but it also kept them away from the store, leaving Loki alone to brood for hours on end as he attempted to bring order to their business. Sif was worried about him.

She was worried about a lot of people. The officials estimated about 80% of their town had been destroyed, and not everybody was lucky enough to have a place like Stud Finder to live in. The town needed some good news soon, lest everyone give up out of despair. 

Sif quietly slipped out of the covers and made her way into the office. The sky was still dark, though early morning sunlight threatened to make an entrance. She made sure the door was securely closed behind her to block as much sound as possible. Heading to the office supply pile, she pushed aside tarps, placed there to keep the items underneath as free from rain as possible, and found her laptop. There wasn’t any electricity, but that’s what battery power was for, and she hadn’t turned the machine on since the night of the hurricane. 

Miraculously, the laptop had survived intact with no wind or water damage, and Sif was pleased to see it still had 65% battery life remaining. With a few quick keystrokes, she pulled up the images from their calendar photo shoot and started editing. Originally this calendar had been meant to fund a special project, but now Sif hoped pictures of gorgeous men might help out the community. Half of it, anyway, but hopefully anyone not into two hot men could see the benefit of uplifted morale, even if it wasn’t their own. 

(Not that she could understand how anyone could look at the Odinson brothers and _not_ feel uplifted, but then, she was rather biased.)

She’d have to find someplace to print these beauties. She wasn’t sure how far she’d have to walk, but maybe she could find a gassed up motorcycle somewhere and get far enough inland to find a working print shop. 

Saving her work to a thumb drive, Sif pocketed it and turned her computer off. Stopping by her bed, she dropped a kiss on Loki’s head and scribbled a message on his arm so he wouldn’t worry when he awoke. “See you boys later,” she murmured and slipped out the front door.

**

Loki was displeased. 

He’d been displeased for the better part of a week now, but he was exceptionally displeased to be left alone with his super strong brother while his girlfriend was off somewhere doing who knows what. Worse still, she’d informed him via sharpie on his arm, and with the water shortage, he couldn’t scrub it off. 

_brb gone fishing love Sif xx_

The woman had no sense of propriety. On his forearm? Really? It would be viewable by everyone. And who knew what she meant by “gone fishing.” He often found her sense of humor unintelligible. 

And those ridiculous x’s. Juvenile.

Thor, insufferable oaf that he was, couldn’t stop grinning at Loki and waggling his eyebrows like some pubescent boy. 

“Isn’t it time for you to leave?” Loki asked in irritation.

“Probably,” Thor said cheerfully, “but I find myself lacking direction without Sif around. I can’t remember where we were supposed to go today.”

“Preferably outside and far away from here,” Loki replied. “And don’t hesitate to remain wherever you are until long after dark.”

“Love you, too, brother,” Thor said, his grin so wide his molars were showing. Loki sniffed disdainfully. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before Thor finished eating his exciting breakfast of peanut butter slathered on increasingly stale bread (breakfast of champions, for certain) and vacated the store, finally leaving Loki with a bit of peace. He finished chewing his own peanut butter sandwich slowly, not relishing the thought of another day stuck inside this dilapidated store. Taking inventory was difficult with everything shoved to one side and lacking proper supplies (he had to use _paper_ and _pen_ ), and his frequent bouts of sitting and staring at nothing didn’t help. 

Well. With Sif gone and Thor off saving the world, no one would notice if he crawled back in bed for an extra hour, so he did. 

Sif’s spot wasn’t warm anymore, but the pillow still smelled like her, so Loki drew it near and buried his nose in it. He still struggled to believe she was his, amazed she hadn’t given up on him after one of his moods. She must actually love him. The thought was enough to almost make him smile. 

One hour turned into two, then three, and the sun was high in the sky before Loki made his way out of bed to the hardware supplies awaiting his attention. He poked at a pile of hammers with his foot before sighing. Someone had to do it, and since he was the boss and both his employees were out bettering the world, he had the privilege of being “someone.”

After five days of working on the problem, Loki was nearly done. He might not be a visible hero, out saving and improving the lives of other Floridians, but at least he could claim this store as his accomplishment. Besides moving the shelves, Sif and Thor hadn’t lifted a finger to help, so he claimed this corner of the world as his own. 

He hated that Sif was out there being a hero with Thor at her side instead of Loki. It was causing old resentments to flare up again, regardless of what had transpired during the hurricane, and he was sorely tempted to grab the nearest pointed tool and trash Thor’s mattress. The only thing stopping him was the thought of having to share a bed with his brother _and_ Sif. Thor wouldn’t care, but Sif would press her lips together and give him the quiet eye, which was as close as she got to yelling at him while they lived in such close quarters. 

In a fit of anger, Loki kicked the nearest steel shelf. It hurt, of course, and he let out a string of colorful curses as he hopped about, clutching his injured toe. If he managed to break it, he’d--well, he’d keep it to himself, because he wasn’t about to let Thor and Sif know how petulant he’d been. 

Biting off a growl, Loki stalked around the shelf. He wanted to shift it back, but that would be an impossible task by himself. Moving these shelves required multiple men, and he was just one person. 

But hadn’t Sif and Thor moved it by themselves? Oh, wait, they were freakishly strong. How could he forget? 

Angry again, Loki threw himself against the shelf. He was throwing his entire body weight against a solid object still half bolted into the floor, so what he expected was to bounce off. He expected several shelf-sized and shelf-spaced bruises to line his body. He expected to fail completely, as he was so apt at doing. 

Instead, the shelf shifted. 

Pulling back, Loki stared in surprise. How…? Placing his hand against the shelf, he pushed. Nothing happened. Had he imagined the shifting of the shelf, or was he just not exerting enough effort? Go big or go home, right? That sounded like something Thor would say. Wiping his hands on his pants, Loki positioned himself so he was practically hugging the shelf. On the count of three, he told himself. One… two… three… With a heave he picked up the shelf, nearly ripping out the bolt holding it in place. Shocked, Loki dropped the shelf--right on his already injured foot. 

Letting out a howl, he hurriedly extricated himself and hobbled back to the mattresses, dropping gracelessly so he could inspect his foot. It was swelling, making it difficult to remove his shoe. Every movement, every tug of the shoe resulted in another howl. Just how many of the 23 bones in his foot had he broken? This hurt worse than any other pain Loki could remember. 

Once the shoe was finally off, Loki got to experience the excruciating pain of sock removal. Normally something he didn’t even process doing, now every scrape of the sock fibers left him moaning and sweating. It _hurt_. How had Thor survived laceration with barely more than a groan? Loki felt as if he could curl up and happily die, and all he had was a foot injury

The sock finally off and tossed aside, Loki inspected his foot. It was already black and blue, the skin broken along the top where the edge of the shelf hit the hardest. He wished his phone was charged so he could snap a picture, but it, like all of the electronics in their store, was dead. Stud Finder had a backup generator, but it had been damaged in the hurricane, leaving them completely without electricity and Loki without a camera. 

There was a first aid kit somewhere, but Loki was in no mood to find it. He planned to stay precisely where he was until Sif or Thor returned and could locate it for him.

Leaning back, Loki propped his foot up on Thor’s pillow and wished for ice. 

*

When Thor returned, it was full dark and Loki, as promised, had not moved for hours. 

“Loki!” Thor boomed, moving around the store like a bulldozer. Loki winced as his brother ran into yet another pile of completed inventory. 

“Right here, you great oaf,” Loki drawled. 

More crashing sounds, then light. Thor had located a battery-powered lamp. “Why are you sitting in the dark?” he asked, peering at Loki, who pointed at his injured foot. 

Thor had to thoroughly invade Loki’s personal space before he was close enough to see what Loki was pointing at. “It’s a pretty bruise,” Thor remarked, “but you’ve had worse falling down the stairs. Why are you lying in bed?”

“Worse?” Loki demanded. “My whole foot looks like the night sky, and you’re making light of it.”

“Are we looking at the same foot?” Thor asked. 

Gesturing again at the foot, Loki said, “I am damaged, here. A modicum of sympathy, if you please.”

Thor, gentle as always, hauled Loki into a sitting position and nearly smashed Loki’s face into his foot. Interesting. The bruise had shrunk. 

“I might be a freak like you and Sif,” Loki said mildly. 

Next to him, Thor stilled. “A what?” he asked carefully.

Loki rolled his eyes. “A freak. Incredibly strong. Stupidly fast healing. Yes, I know about your lovely little conversation, and yes, I was eavesdropping. I would have eavesdropped even if I hadn’t wanted to, because you whisper like rolling thunder.” Thor cleared his throat, at a loss for words, and Loki rolled his eyes again. Dryly, he said, “Yes, brother, I am capable of keeping my peace when I choose to.”

“What does Sif think about it?” Thor asked. 

“No idea. Haven’t seen her all day.” Which was some cause for concern, given they had no way of contacting her, and the entire surrounding area was still suffering the aftereffects of a major hurricane. But there was no point in worrying; Sif could handle herself. And even if she couldn’t, it’s not like they could do anything about it. They didn’t even know where “gone fishing” was. 

A stupid note, Loki once again thought. He was going to have a chat with that woman about proper communication. 

They shared a supper of bread and peanut butter, a meal Loki was getting tired of, as Loki explained moving the shelf by himself and his miraculously healing foot. Thor shared tales of his own feats of strength as he went about helping the community clean up from Hurricane Lee. As their stories wound down, both brothers stared at each other. “What does this mean?” Thor asked. Loki shrugged. 

“No idea, brother.”

**

Sif returned four days later, a small stack of papers in her hand. The stack had been much larger upon her initial return, but she’d stapled a flyer to every upright piece of wood or corkboard she could find. She would have put them all up, but wanted a small sampling for Thor and Loki, and couldn’t wait to share her genius. Thor was going to love it, while there was a 50% chance Loki would dump her over this. 

Opening the front door, she found there was no one at Stud Finder and several of Loki’s carefully-piled inventory supplies were strewn about the floor. She frowned, noting the unmade beds. Either the Odinsons fell apart without her around, or something was seriously wrong. The messy piles could be explained by Thor blundering his way through the store, or indicative of a struggle. If it had been a struggle, was it the result of vagrants coming through, or had Loki and Thor tussled? 

Was it sad that she figured tussling was more likely? 

She made quick work of the inventory piles, reorganizing them and shoving them away from the front door, then made both beds. No hotel would be impressed with her corners, but she was working with limited resources and a concrete floor. Pulling out food for dinner, Sif had to admit their supplies were running low. They had enough food for three or four more days, maybe less if she couldn’t convince Thor to eat less. They were going to have to give in and find a supply depot like the Salvation Army, or hope one of the grocery stores had finally reopened.

The bell over the door jingled and both brothers walked in, looking tired but no worse for wear. If they’d fought, they were hiding it well. “Sif!” Thor cried, rushing forward to scoop her up in a tight hug. Over his shoulder she could see Loki’s mouth twist with displeasure, but she ignored it. Thor was her friend, too, and hopefully one day would be her brother, if she had anything to say about it. Loki would just have to get used to seeing Sif hug him. “Where have you been?”

Thor released her with a gentle toss in Loki’s direction. Loki moved his arms as if to cross them, but one raised eyebrow from her and he embraced her instead. “Did you catch any fish?” he asked, letting her go. 

“Oh yeah,” she said, grabbing Loki’s hand and dragging him to their mattress where she’d tossed the papers. “I went out hunting for morale, and I think I found it.”

Spreading the five papers across her bed, she couldn’t help but smirk as Loki’s eyes narrowed. Thor shouldered his way in, and, as expected, laughed. 

Four of the papers depicted images of Thor and one of Loki, each containing large white block letters. The one Thor picked up was Sif’s favorite of the pile. Thor smoldered at the camera in his red coveralls, pointing the hammer toward the viewer, the letters reading THESE ARE NO THORDINARY MEMES. One paper showed gleaming, shirtless Thor holding a variety of tools with the caption DISASTER RELIEF CAN BE A THOR SUBJECT. A third was of Thor in a t-shirt with bulging muscles, captioned SURVIVAL WAS THORTOLD. Conveniently there was an image of Thor in a coat that looked just enough like a doctor to warrant the caption THE DOCTHOR SAYS YOU’LL MAKE IT THROUGH!

The token image of Loki was her favourite shot of him in his 3-piece suit. He was crouching down and staring at the camera like he owned the viewer’s soul; the caption read THEY’RE AFTER ME LOKI CHARMS. Just thinking about it made her grin. 

“What have you done,” Loki said flatly.

“Who cares? This is brilliant!” Thor gushed.

Sif gave a half shrug and smiled. “As much as we need to clear away debris, our community needs a reason to smile. I took all the pictures intended for our calendars, turned them into memes, and walked until I found someone who could give me a ride to the nearest town with electricity and a print shop. I ordered an entire ream of these and plastered them all over town. There are a few others I didn’t bring samples of, but you get the idea. I printed Stud Finder’s address at the bottom. Don’t know what that’ll do, but maybe we can get some extra business out of it.”

“Business as an escort, maybe,” Loki snapped, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “Bloody hell, Sif.”

“Boosting morale is good for the troops!” Thor said. “Brilliant idea. This is why we pay Sif the big bucks.”

“This is extortion. Sexual harassment. If she--”

“Did you know Loki’s a freak like us?” Thor interrupted. This piqued Sif’s interest. “He’s also stronger than your average bear and heals unusually fast. Tell her about your foot, Loki.”

“I am not a circus freak on display.”

Sif squatted and grabbed his foot, knocking Loki backward onto the mattress. Yanking off his shoe and sock, she didn’t notice anything unusual. “I’m being manhandled,” he said indignantly. “And that’s the wrong foot.” She made a grab for his other foot, but he was faster than her, slipping out of her grasp. “Stop that!”

“Then tell me whatever it is Thor wants me to know.” After one more petulant glare, Loki shared with her the tale of his foot injury, putting extra emphasis on how wounded he’d been. Given he was fine now, Sif rolled her eyes at his dramatics, though she was pleased she no longer had to hide her connection with Thor. 

“This is amazing,” she said at the conclusion of his recitation. “Together, the three of us can rebuild this town!”

“Amazing?” Loki demanded, crossing his arms. “We’re freaks of nature, and you think it’s amazing?”

“One, it’s helpful, and two, we’re _all_ freaks, so yes, it’s amazing!”

Thor held up his arms as if to separate them. “It can be both amazing and worrisome,” he said. “No need to take sides.”

“I want to know why,” Loki said. “It’s illogical for the three of us to be unnaturally strong, and to discover said abnormality within days of each other. How did this come to be? What prompted the change?”

Sif shrugged, but Thor suddenly became animated. “We did just survive a major natural disaster. Perhaps while we were huddling under our mattresses, we were struck by lightning and were granted superpowers. We’ve become heroes! Think of all the good we can do, all the women we can woo--not that either of you care about that part, but I’m interested in it.” He struck a pose to showcase his biceps, making Loki scowl and Sif laugh. “It’s a good thing, Loki.”

“It’s only served to make me hungrier, and we’re down to one jar of peanut butter,” Loki said. “Super strength needs super calories, something we are sorely lacking.”

That was a sobering thought. Sif had seen several relief stations set up around town while she was busy plastering the boys’ faces everywhere, but the supplies were limited. If Loki was right and they needed super calories, they were very quickly going to run into a major problem. 

“We need more supplies,” she declared, “and we can’t take from the locals, if we’re going to eat as much as Loki is suggesting. Thor, tomorrow you should head out of town and see what you can find, while Loki and I continue cleanup in town.”

“Conveniently leaving you two alone,” Thor said. “I can tell when I’m not wanted.”

“It’s about time,” Loki groused at the same time Sif said, “You’re always wanted.”

Thor grinned. “You two are perfect for each other.”

**

Half the time Loki thought he was the CEO in name only, as he and Thor always ended up doing what Sif wanted them to. He put up a token effort at arguing with Sif (he couldn’t let her think she was in charge), but because her plan was solid and they were in need of more sustenance, it was quickly agreed that Thor would traverse the hurricane-stricken land in search of food while Loki and Sif did… other things.

Of course, his idea of other things and her idea of other things did not coincide, which was how Loki found himself doing manual labor under the hot Florida sun.

He did _not_ enjoy it.

He worked in an air-conditioned office and farmed his brother out for a reason. 

Three days into Sif’s idea of manual labor, Loki managed to find an assignment far away from hers. He worked diligently all morning, as expected, but when the sun hit noon he disappeared, returning to Stud Finder where at least there was shade to be found. Knowing Sif would give him her disappointed look if he lazed about in bed for the rest of the day, Loki made himself useful around the store. Inventory may be complete, but there was still a lot to be done before they could reopen. 

In one of the supply closets, Loki found old carbon copy ledgers and receipt booklets, along with a box of hopefully functioning pens. He could make do with this in lieu of a functioning cash register and electricity. They needed to do something with the mattresses which were filling up the main entryway of the store. If he wanted to lure customers back, he’d best hide the sleeping arrangements, though he wasn’t quite sure where. Until the roof was fixed (and why that wasn’t a priority for his self-righteous counterparts, he didn’t know) the office was off limits, but maybe they could stand the mattresses upright in there during the day, just to get them out of the way.

Super strength made moving a mattress a one-man job, which Loki proudly accomplished twice in a matter of minutes. It was the little things.

Feeling satisfied, he moved to the door and flipped the sign to OPEN, then returned to the office to assess the roof damage. Perhaps he could figure out a solution, permanent or temporary, and return this building to its functioning state. 

Loki had a measuring tape out and pencil tucked behind his ear when he heard the ring of the bell attached to the front door. “Hello?” a female voice called out. 

A customer? Truly? Loki grinned. Thor and Sif couldn’t say nay to him now. The measuring tape clattered to the floor as he moved into the store to greet whomever had come to purchase his wares. “Hello,” he greeted the little woman. She was attractive, with long brown hair and an inquisitive brow, dressed in jeans and a tank top with a flannel shirt tied about her waist. She looked to be the sort of woman Loki might have chased after had Sif not finally conceded to be with him. “How may I help you?”

The woman took a moment to speak, her large eyes growing even wider as she took him in. Great. Had she seen one of Sif’s stupid memes about town and come in just to ogle him? 

“Loki…?” she whispered.

“In the flesh,” he said, palms out.

She marched up to him and slapped him. “That’s for New York!” she said viciously, the slapped the other side of his face. “And that’s for kidnapping your brother!”

Moving his jaw, Loki was suddenly grateful for super strength for an entirely new reason. Had Sif been the one landing blows, he might well be suffering from a dislocated jaw. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. “You arrive at my place of work and abuse me, unprovoked? I have hurricane cleanup to attend to! Get out!”

“Oh, like you’ve ever worked a day in your life,” the woman said, eyeing him like he was fried shrimp. “The most you’ve ever managed to accomplish is murdering innocent people.”

Anger flashed across Loki’s face. “Get out, or I’ll make you get out,” he growled. She did not seem perturbed. 

“Where is Thor?” the small woman demanded. 

“Get out,” Loki repeated.

The tiny woman crossed her arms, staring him down. _Make me_ , her body posture read. 

So Loki did. Picking her up, he walked her out the door, set her down, and shut the door in her face. Loki smirked. 

The tiny woman tried to re-enter the store, but Loki held the door closed. “You won’t get away with this!” she shouted through the glass. “Hiding in Florida doesn’t absolve you of your crimes!”

“The only thing I’m guilty of is being criminally hot,” Loki said, momentarily smoldering at her to prove his point. Her glare intensified. “Now get lost, or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

“Where’s Thor?” she demanded again, banging on the glass. 

He shrugged, giving her an infuriating smile. Even if he knew Thor’s precise location, he’d never share it with this obsessive freak.

He anticipated that within five minutes, the woman would get bored of assaulting an immovable door and move on, but he grossly underestimated her stamina, and half an hour later she was still banging on the door, demanding to know where Thor was, punctuated by announcements that Loki was going to jail. Loki wasn’t a patient man in the best of times, and his endurance was quickly being exhausted. He smacked the glass door in return and bellowed, “WHAT?” It startled the woman enough that she backed away, eyes wide with fear. That’s right, tiny ant: you aren’t in charge here.

Unfortunately, the fear didn’t last long, and she went back to shouting. Irritated, Loki flung open the door. Despite his threat, the police were busy with post-hurricane clean-up and preventing looting, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make a citizen’s arrest. He didn’t actually know the rules surrounding that, but it’s not like the police were available to correct him. 

Grabbing the woman, Loki made quick work of tying her to one of the office chairs, repurposed as a prison. He wished he had a gag for her mouth, but none of their socks were clean--

She was a prisoner. She didn’t need a clean gag.

Grabbing one of Thor’s socks, he stuffed it in her mouth, relishing in her disgusted look. 

Ignoring her, he returned to working on the problem of the office roof.

**

Part of being with Loki meant dealing with the unusual, from photo shoots starring Loki as a toddler to holding mattresses over bleeding friends during hurricanes. Even so, Sif never expected to come home after a day of cleaning up hurricane debris to find her boyfriend crunching numbers with a hostage in the center of the room.

At least she hadn’t walked in on him cheating on her. 

“Who’s this?” Sif asked, setting a sandwich down on the counter. The Helping Hands volunteers in yellow shirts had given it to her. They were a nice group of people, very friendly and good with a sledgehammer. Sif was impressed with all the religious groups showing up to assist with cleanup. Many hands certainly made light work. 

“Please tell me the sandwich is for sharing,” Loki said, dropping his pencil on the counter.

“Yup. it’s a small break from the monotony of peanut butter.”

“I love you,” he said, and she smiled. 

The tied up girl made a noise, looking angrier with each passing moment. “Who is she?” Sif asked again.

Loki shrugged, unwrapping the sandwich. “No idea.”

Curious, Sif removed the gag. “Oh, Loki, you didn’t,” she said, delicately holding the dirty sock with two fingers. “This is nasty, and you shoved it in her mouth?”

“There isn’t enough bleach in the world to remove that taste,” the girl rasped. “Though I shouldn’t expect any different from a villain.”

“Here now, that’s harsh,” Sif said. “Loki’s a lot of things, but villain isn’t one of them.”

The girl raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Sif, right? You know better. He sent the Destroyer after you.”

“Crazed fangirl?” Sif asked Loki. 

“Fan of what?”

“Loki memes?”

“The memes are how I tracked you down,” the woman said. “The final step, anyway. It was the Einstein-Rosen bridge that initially brought me to Florida, but the hurricane set me back. It made travel difficult, and no one wants to send tourists into a disaster relief area, but it’s been months since my last lead, and I wasn’t going to give up this link to Thor.” She frowned. “I wasn’t expecting you two, and especially not together. Last I saw, Loki tried to kill you, and he didn’t endear himself to anyone after his terrorist activities in New York.”

“You became a terrorist when I wasn’t looking?” Sif asked, moving to grab the half sandwich Loki offered her. She left the girl tied up.

“Perhaps I ought to consider a career change,” Loki said. “According to this cretin, I’m already successful without any effort.”

“How can you act like you didn’t do anything?” the woman demanded. “Hundreds of people are dead because of you, not to mention the billions of dollars in property damage. I’m not a proponent of the death penalty, but I could make an exception for you.”

“Delightful creature,” Loki commented, resuming his math.

Sif squatted in front of the woman, knowing it was her job to reason with the unreasonable. Really, they should all be grateful Loki only tied her to a chair. It could have been much worse. “What do you want?” Sif asked, keeping her voice calm and measured.

The woman responded in kind. “Thor.” She smiled at Sif’s expression. “I’m not upset with you, though I am curious why you’re so chummy with Bozo over there.”

“What do you want with Thor?” 

“I haven’t seen him since New Mexico, and I was hoping the Einstein-Rosen bridge readings coming from this area would lead me to him. I never expected to find you and Loki.”

The woman spoke with such confidence, Sif almost doubted her own past. “Do I know you…?”

“We met in New Mexico, but only briefly. You were kind of occupied taking care of the Destroyer.” The woman smiled at her. “Though I’m not sure if we were properly introduced. Things were a little crazy. I’m Jane Foster.”

Peering in to Jane’s eyes, Sif tried to dredge up a memory of this woman. Her eyes were warm when she wasn’t glaring, and Sif felt sure she and Jane would get along famously, given the chance. Still, there was nothing familiar about her. “I have no memory of you, and I’ve never been to New Mexico.”

Jane looked confused for a moment, but then her face cleared. “Is this some sort of Asgardian magic? Were your minds wiped?” She shot a glare at Loki. “Did _he_ do it?”

“If only I could, I’d make her forget all about Thor,” Loki said in a bored voice.

Sif mimed chucking something at him, but he didn’t notice, engrossed in his math as he was.

She wasn’t quite sure what to make of this woman, this Jane Foster. Her mind didn’t seem befuddled, her eyes quite clear and her voice logical when she spoke, but she was making little sense. To Sif’s knowledge, neither she nor the Odinsons had ever been to New Mexico, and as for magic… She’d had that strange conversation with Loki during the storm, but otherwise magic hadn’t been part of their lives since they were five and dreaming of being magicians themselves.

Even so, Sif’s instincts weren’t warning her against this woman. In fact, they were doing the opposite--she felt like this woman could be a friend. 

It was time to dig for information. Carefully tearing off part of her sandwich, Sif offered it to Jane, before remembering Jane was still tied up. She made quick work of loosing the bonds, despite Loki’s loud complaints to the contrary, and searched for a cup of water to give Jane. Jane gobbled the sandwich right up, leaving Sif to wonder at Loki’s complete lack of hospitality. “What? She hit me,” he said when asked.

Turning back to Jane, Sif said, “Why don’t you explain how we know each other.”

She dove into a fantastic tale of otherworldly gods, superhuman feats of strength, rainbow bridges, magic, and Loki as villain, all centered around New Mexico and some place in space she labelled Asgard. If that wasn’t bizarre enough, at the conclusion of that story she launched into a disjointed tale about New York City and the mass destruction caused there, supposedly at the behest of Loki. In both instances Thor was painted as the hero, putting Loki into a darker and more sullen mood. Sif wished this girl’s fanciful tales didn’t put the brothers at odds with each other; they’d only just made tentative peace, and she didn’t want Loki questioning their progress. 

At Jane’s declaration that Loki was responsible for dozens, maybe even hundreds of deaths, Loki interrupted the retelling to argue statistics. He claimed damage on the scale Jane described would result in thousands of deaths, not hundreds. This did not sit well with Jane, who gave him a lecture about loss of innocent life, which Loki waved away in the face of the argument being theoretical. 

The back-and-forth was fascinating to watch. Jane clearly believed her own words, and was deeply distressed at Loki’s cavalier attitude toward death. Loki just as clearly thought Jane was touched in the head and treated the discussion like a high school debate project. The tension in the room escalated until Sif intervened, bringing tempers back to a reasonable level.

“It’s a tragic tale, certainly,” Sif said, “but impossible. We’ve lived our whole lives in Florida, with the last several years spent running this store once Thor’s and Loki’s parents died. To accomplish what you’ve just detailed isn’t congruent with the lives we live.”

Jane shook her head. “I almost believe you,” she said, “except that I know what I saw, and I know what the readings for an Einstein-Rosen bridge look like. Asgardian travel occurred here, and I’m just a little bit peeved Thor came to Earth twice and didn’t look me up.” Her expression said she was more than just a little peeved, but Sif kept that thought to herself. “You guys may be under a spell, but that doesn’t make my words false.”

“A spell,” Loki snorted, having long since abandoned his project. “What’s next, mind control? Oh, wait, you claim I already engaged in that.”

“You know, I have proof,” Jane said, reaching into her back pocket to produce a cell phone. “I have video of what happened in New Mexico, and what happened in New York is all over Youtube.”

Sif had no words as she watched the videos Jane shared, clearly depicting her in impressive silver armor and Loki in green leather ( _hot_ her mind unhelpfully supplied) and a ridiculous horned helmet. The footage from New York was even more absurd. It took some searching, but Jane found a shot of Loki riding a flying alien motorbike. “Nice special effects,” Loki drawled, “but if I were to wear such ridiculous getup, my helmet wouldn’t squash my hair.”

The front door to Stud Finder opened, the bell ringing. “I’m back, and I have food!” Thor boomed. Three sets of eyes turned to see him grinning as he held up a full duffel bag. “We don’t have to starve! And I’ve got several water buckets outside. Who’s she?”

“Thor!” Jane said, making to run toward him, but his clear lack of recognition stilled her. 

“Wow, your memes have made me famous already,” Thor told Sif, setting his bag of groceries on the counter. “Welcome to Stud Finder! How can I help you? These two are experts in the store, and I’m an expert at swinging a hammer.” He winked at Jane, who blushed and glared at the same time.

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, hand on her hips. “You promised me you’d be back soon, but it’s been two years! _Two years_ and not a word!”

Thor looked helplessly at Sif and Loki. “Did I forget I had a girlfriend…?”

Sif snorted into her hand while Loki responded. “Only if you’ve recently visited a mental hospital. She’s telling extraordinary tales, and has some incredible CGI work to support her claims. Behold.”

Thor took the phone, watching the videos with growing fascination. “I look good,” he commented as the camera caught a sweaty Thor straining his muscles to keep debris from falling on bystanders. “This is pretty good,” he told Jane. “It would make a great marketing ploy. _Need help removing debris? Call our DestrucThor!_ ”

“This isn’t funny,” Jane told him. “You’ve been missing, and now you’re harboring a war criminal in a hardware store in Florida! You didn’t really think that was going to work, did you?”

“War criminal! Who, Sif? Sure, she’s threatened to kill us many a time, but she’s never followed through.”

“I mean your brother,” Jane said flatly. “He’s supposed to be in an Asgardian prison cell. Erik told me that was the deal you struck with S.H.I.E.L.D., and the only reason Fury let you take him off world.”

“Fury?” Loki asked, amused. “A mythological creature? Oh, the insanity gets better.”

“No, he’s--you know what, _you_ don’t get to talk to me--” she jabbed her finger in Loki’s direction “because I am _sure_ this is your fault. It was your fault Thor fell to Earth, your fault he left Earth, your fault he returned--his current inability to remember anything is undoubtedly also your fault. So you just can it.”

“Of course you picked a girlfriend who hates me,” Loki told Thor. “Do something about her, please. I have a store to return to its former glory.”

Jane stamped her foot like an actual child. “Why won’t anyone listen to me!”

“You must admit, the tale is farfetched,” Sif said. 

“Flat-out impossible,” Loki said. “Though I am a fan of me leveling New York. Can I get an affidavit stating that’s true?”

“I can get you newspaper articles, Youtube footage, and government documents stating it happened,” Jane said flatly. “What’s more, one phone call and I could have the Avengers here to arrest your sorry ass.”

“And now she knows the Avengers,” Loki said. “Are you bosom buddies with Iron Man?”

Jane angrily jabbed her finger at Thor. “I know _him_. And Erik can--”

“Is this a jealous girlfriend thing?” Thor interrupted. “Because there’s no need. I love Sif, but not like that.”

“But you do love her?” Sif asked, amused. Again, Jane blushed. Clearly she had a thing for Thor, and Thor wasn’t cautious enough to avoid the crazies--as he was busy demonstrating, by smiling at Jane like she might be a good time. Sif shook her head. Men. “Just remember there isn’t a spare bed for shenanigans,” she said. “Or a nearby hotel.”

“No,” Jane said forcefully, going even redder. Sif snickered. “That is not what I’m here for--I mean, maybe a little, but--no, I’m not--it’s just that things were said--”

Thor cut her off by swooping in, gathering Jane in his embrace, and planting one on her. Sif and Loki shared winces, trying not to look too closely at what Thor was doing. 

As things dragged on, Sif couldn’t help but peek. They knew they had an audience, right? And Thor remembered that Jane was a crazy stranger? “He must be desperate,” Loki commented, eyes on the counter top. Sif could only agree.

At last they pulled back, Jane with a dazed expression on her face and Thor with a confused, focused expression. He didn’t seem to remember he wasn’t alone, moving back in to kiss Jane tenderly, which was far more uncomfortable to witness than watching him go at it with abandon. Grabbing Loki’s hand, Sif pulled him outside, ignoring his many complaints that he was there first, _they_ should have to leave. No spare bed or not, Sif was beginning to think Thor wasn’t going to let that stop him. He’d get an earful from her later, when he wasn’t… occupied… with other things. 

Of course, witnessing Thor shoving his tongue down Jane’s throat reminded Sif that it had been a long day of hard physical labor, and she wouldn’t mind a little sugar herself. Loki’s complaining was annoying, but she didn’t mind shutting him up.

Neither did he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not original; I googled the memes and stole the first ones I found. I love a good pun, though, so if you have any, please share them!


	6. Chapter 6

Thor and Jane didn’t retire to the mattresses, thank goodness, because Loki had to sleep in there, and he didn’t want that thought fresh in his mind. No matter how hot the chick was, Loki couldn’t see the appeal in sleeping with a deranged psychopath who thought you were some sort of god. Well, maybe he could see the appeal just a little bit, because goodness knows Sif could benefit from seeing him as a god. Not permanently, because that would very quickly become boring, but a night or two of her recognizing his career trajectory could do wonders for his ego.

Which was undoubtedly why she never would. Sif was nothing if not level headed. 

“Did they go somewhere?” Sif asked, squinting into the store. 

“You are far too focused on Thor’s poor life choices when your own poor life choice is standing right in front of you,” Loki pouted. 

She whipped her head around and stared intently at him. “You are not a poor life choice,” she said firmly. “You might be the best choice I ever made. Don’t let that go to your head,” she said in response to his puffing chest, “because choices can quickly be unmade. But I don’t make poor romantic choices.”

And with a speech like that, what was a Loki to do but gather her up in his arms and kiss her senseless? “I do think I love you,” he said between kisses. 

“Think?” she growled, putting in renewed effort to solidify his opinion.

It was solidified. 

In the end, it was Thor who interrupted them. “Really, brother, in broad daylight? Show some consideration for the lady.” Loki flipped his brother off, but the kiss was ruined as Sif was now laughing. 

“This is quite unexpected, the playboy offering advice on what is and is not appropriate,” she grinned, straightening the hair Loki had mussed. Pity. “Where did your conquest go?”

Ignoring her, Thor said, “I would speak with my brother alone.”

“Why so formal?” Loki asked. 

Thor frowned. “There are things… I would speak with you alone, Loki, where I will explain all.”

“Somebody’s in trouble,” Sif teased. “I’ll go take a walk. Be back in an hour.” She peered into the store once more. “What happened to your conquest?”

“Do not speak so of Jane,” Thor said with unexpected heat. “She has the best of intentions, and we would do well to heed her.”

“Oookay,” Sif said. “You two talk that one out. I’m gone.”

And she left the two brothers alone. At least Thor’s floozy was nowhere in sight, so Loki didn’t have to pretend amiability with someone he found a bit creepy. Crossing his arms, he waited for Thor to start the fight (and it would be a fight, or else he wouldn’t have sent Sif away. Though that was pointless, as they’d fought in front of her many times).

Thor took his sweet time to begin talking, instead wasting time by pacing back and forth. He looked agitated, an unusual expression for him. 

“I kissed her as a joke.” 

“Yes, that was quite obvious,” Loki said flatly. “Don’t tell me all it took was love’s true kiss, and now you’ve proposed and are headed off into marital bliss. I won’t come to that wedding.”

“It was a joke, and maybe a little bit because I’m a man whore, but then we kissed and things starting jumbling in my brain…”

If it was possible, Loki’s expression became even flatter. “A love potion?” he mockingly suggested. 

“No,” Thor said, lifting his eyes to meet Loki’s. There was actual torment there, worse than when he fell injured during the hurricane, and for the first time Loki worried. “I do not think she is making fanciful claims. I think everything Jane said is true. I’m…” he hesitated a moment, eyes shooting off into the distance. “I’m remembering things,” he said quietly.

“That or you ate too many magic mushrooms,” Loki said, not believing his own words, but not wanting to believe Thor’s, either. It was one thing to laugh about the destruction of New York, another thing entirely to actually be the cause of it. 

“Brother, we are not who we think we are,” Thor said firmly. “This business, our life down here.... Tell me, what do you remember of high school?”

That was an easy question. “Everything,” Loki said, “from your days of glory as football captain to my stint on the academic team, with Sif interwoven in every aspect of our lives.”

“And what of our other friends?”

“Scattered hither and yon, as happens when children graduate from high school.”

“Name one.”

“No,” Loki said automatically, the response he usually gave Thor when he asked questions, exclusively to annoy him. It was a ridiculous question anyway; they had friends. Loki had friends separate from Thor, too. He just didn’t keep in touch with them, and had no use for facebook, for what fool wanted to keep in contact with old friends? They were old for a reason. If they were current, texting and nights out were sufficient. 

Of course, it had been years since he thought of one…

Or anyone….

Now that Thor had asked the question, Loki couldn’t get it out of his head. Who _had_ his friends been in high school? _Was_ there anyone, besides his brother and his girlfriend? Maybe Loki was such a loner he’d concocted imaginary friends so he didn’t have to admit his pathetic existence circled around Sif and Thor. He really needed to get out and meet new people. 

“You can’t think of anyone, can you?” Thor said, the tiniest bit of triumph in his voice. “You can’t think of anyone because there wasn’t anyone.”

“Yes, fine, so I was a friendless loser,” Loki said, annoyed. “Not the sort of thing you need to rub in my face a decade later.”

“You aren’t a friendless loser, brother,” Thor said, moving forward to place his hand on Loki’s shoulder. “You don’t have any high school friends because you never went to high school. Neither did Sif. Neither did I. We aren’t of this Realm.”

Loki was quickly rethinking his magic mushroom theory. “What’s next, rainbow bridges and gods from elsewhere? Maybe the girl you kissed was high on shrooms and now it’s clouding your brain.”

Thor brought his other hand to Loki’s shoulder so he was gripping him. “Listen to me, brother,” Thor said, and it struck Loki how bizarre it was to have Thor repeatedly call him brother. “Consider the facts. We--you, Sif, and myself--are in possession of strength far greater than that of any mortal. I should have died during that hurricane, as you well know, but instead I healed quickly. Too quickly. Magically quickly.”

“Shroomishly quickly,” Loki supplied. 

“Fine, shroomishly quickly,” Thor said, “if that will ease your mind. I am not some super soldier, or a freak of nature, and neither are you. We are…” he faltered, his eyes going distant again, which solidified Loki’s mushroom theory. Thor, tripping balls. Who thought he’d live to see the day?

Abruptly, Thor dropped his hands, moving back and giving Loki a look that made him uneasy. “By the Norns,” Thor swore, “perhaps it is better if you remain ignorant.”

There was nothing quite like being told he can’t have the thing to make Loki want the thing. “Tell me,” he demanded. “I have a right to know.”

“A right to incarceration, you mean,” Thor muttered. “Jane was right.” He scrubbed a hand across his face. “By the stars, Jane was right.”

There had to be some merit to this, right? Hallucinations were a common side effect of drugs, but to Loki’s knowledge, two druggies didn’t have the same hallucination. For Thor to be so dejectedly stating Jane’s delusions had merit…

“Tell me,” Loki said.

Thor shook his head. “No. Jane already did, and it wasn’t sufficient. There must be another way, some way to show you…” he trailed off, thinking hard.

“You could kiss me,” Loki suggested drily. “It seemed to work for you.” Thor looked at him like he meant to do just that, so Loki took a step back, raising his hands in defense. “I’m not serious!” 

Thor paid him no heed, pouncing. Loki didn’t believe Thor would actually do it, so he was unprepared for this mass of man to knock him to the ground, grab his head in a vice-like grip, and plant one on him. Thankfully Thor didn’t linger, but Loki still felt sullied and unusual. Shoving his brother off, he leapt up, backpedaling quickly. “You absolute ass,” he snarled, wiping his mouth. “That was sexual harassment.” 

“But did it work?” Thor asked hopefully.

“It worked to enrage me!” 

“Anything else? Feeling suddenly burdened with glorious purpose, or like you might need to banish me to the middle of nowhere and overtake my kingdom?”

“Yes, that one,” Loki said, “with some extra violence thrown in for good measure.”

“Loki, I’m being serious.”

“So am I! That was incestuous and a violation of my rights. Only Sif may do that, and as you are decidedly not her, you have _no right_ to accost me!”

Thor released a growl of frustration. “I’m trying to restore your memory, brother, but the how eludes me. This circumstance we find ourselves in did not come with instructions! I do not know how or why we are here, or why none of us remember Asgard. And how did you escape from prison? I begin to think Jane might be right in this being your fault. Who else would have a vested interest in eliminating the prime witness against you? I’ve been present for both of your recent atrocities. Though why Sif… Regardless, Loki, things are not right.”

“You think?” Loki snarled. “We’re in a disaster zone. We just survived a major hurricane, and now my brother’s gone completely off his rocker! I think that woman bamboozled you.”

“I think _you_ bamboozled me, and she set me free.”

The sentiment was so disgustingly sweet Loki wanted to hurl. “Whatever,” he said. “This conversation is over.”

“I cannot in good conscience let you out of my sight,” Thor said, taking a step forward, prompting Loki to move a step back. 

“Because I’m some sort of war criminal?” he asked, tone clearly indicating what he thought of that.

“Yes.”

Loki rolled his eyes and walked away, navigating around the piles of collected debris no one quite knew what to do with. 

Thor followed.

“Go away.”

“No.”

Which way had Sif gone? Loki should have paid more attention, for he could use her support now--or at least use her as a shield. Thor was being particularly insufferable today. “Sif!” he bellowed, hoping she was in earshot. 

“Stop hiding behind her and face your actions,” Thor said. 

Ignoring his brother, Loki increased his speed, agilely dodging the debris yet to be cleaned up. He continued calling for his girlfriend, hoping she would appear and save him from the menace of his deranged brother.

Thor trailed along for a while, but with the sun slowly sinking, he eventually gave up and returned to Stud Finder, hopefully to deal with his insane new girlfriend. Loki kept moving away, determined not to be alone with Tweedledee and Tweedledum. If he couldn’t find Sif, he could at least hold off returning until he was sure she was back. 

There was still debris everywhere he looked, but unlike immediately after the storm, most of it was gathered in piles rather than littered about. Even with supernatural help, their town was struggling in the aftermath. 

Was it even worth it to remain? 

Stud Finder was all but finished, ready to resume business, but without a thriving populace, being ready to open was pointless. How were they to make a living when there weren’t any customers? Hurricane relief could only last for so long before they needed viable sources of income to procure food and supplies. They needed a plumber; their piping was damaged, hopefully not beyond repair. The road in was riddled with cracks and holes, and the parking lot had several chunks missing. However, repairing it was irrelevant, because no asphalt truck could navigate the precarious roads to reach them. And even if there was one available, where did a hardware store fall on the list of priorities? 

But if they left, where would they go? Was it worth it to start over? And much more importantly--would Sif come with him? 

He really needed to find her. 

Something knocked into him, and with an _oof_ Loki fell to the ground where he was treated to the sight of his girlfriend standing over him, laughing. “I couldn’t help myself,” she grinned. “You were so deep in thought you didn’t hear me calling your name.”

Standing up, Loki grabbed Sif, pulling her into a tight embrace. “You’re still normal,” he said gratefully, not realizing he’d been worried about Sif’s state of mind until he saw there was nothing to fear. “Thor’s lost his marbles.”

“How so?” 

Loki shook his head, his cheek brushing against Sif’s hair. “You’ll see.”

Hand in hand they walked back to the store, discussing the pros and cons of staying vs leaving. Sif’s strongest argument for remaining was her refusal to be driven out of her home, but beyond that, she did not have convincing reasons for staying in what was quickly becoming a wasteland. Loki laid out his reasoning for starting over elsewhere, so Sif raised a valid question: Where? Florida was all they knew.

He almost said New York was lovely this time of year, but held his tongue at the last moment. He’d never been to New York in the fall; he’d never been to New York at all. Yet he could almost visualize the city covered in construction debris and alien carcasses…

Loki shook his head. He’d seen too many of that Foster woman’s videos. 

At the store, Thor and his fling were nowhere in sight, and did not return as the evening wore on. Loki wanted to take advantage of the time, but exhausted from the day’s work, he and Sif curled up on their mattress and were asleep in seconds.

Loki dreamed.

He dreamed of glittering halls, rainbow pathways, and golden eyes, of flashing blades and sparkling illusions, of warm love turned cold and the solitary existence of a gilded cage. He dreamed of glory and falling from grace, of a love unrequited and a brother unsophisticated but full of vigor and affection.

He dreamed of a father unfeeling in his edicts and a mother weeping for her lost sons. 

He dreamed of a family yet living.

Loki sat up with a gasp, sleep ripped from him.

Everything Thor and Jane had told him was true. 

Holding up one pale hand, nearly translucent and glowing in the moonlight, Loki marvelled that a son of Asgard and master magician could so wholly be under an enchantment that he did not question his reality. 

But he had questioned his reality, in minute, unrecognizable ways. He’d spoken to Sif of elemental magic, and stared at the eye of the storm in rapture, certain he was witnessing something spectacular, even if he could not quite identify what. He’d remembered Volstagg. Thor had asked him about high school and memories he should have had but didn’t. 

Tapping into his seidr, three small lights danced between his fingers, casting an eerie glow in the store. 

Thor was not in his bed. 

Thor.

Jane.

_New York._

Dropping the light, Loki’s recent actions against his brother and against Midgard came to the forefront of his mind. Jane’s words and Thor’s accusations rang true: he was a war criminal, sentenced to a lifetime of languishing in the prisons of Asgard, where he should be even now, locked away in a cell that was little better than solitary confinement. 

Sif stirred beside him, and Loki’s heart jumped to his throat. She murmured in her sleep but did not wake. Loki’s gaze lingered on her face, soft in slumber, as his fingers traced her shoulder. 

He had not seen her upon his return to Asgard, covered in chains and disgrace. It had been a small mercy, for though he’d long loved her, Sif had given him little in the way of attention, always mooning after Thor. It was difficult enough to have the entire Realm witness his shame, but had she been present…

Lightly fingering her hair, Loki wondered if he’d been wrong in his assumptions regarding Sif’s affections. For all that this Midgardian charade was a complete farce, the emotions he’d felt, the words he’d shared with both Sif and Thor, stemmed from actual feelings cleverly disguised to match Midgardian life experiences. Sif had spoken so freely of loving him in their youth that he wondered if he’d been so overcome with jealousy over Thor that he failed to see Sif offering him the one thing he truly wanted. 

During his short stint in prison, Sif never once came to see him. Her absence spoke words about her regard for him, but perhaps Loki had misinterpreted those words. Perhaps it was grief she suffered instead of disdain.

One thing was certain: life was different here on Midgard. Before Thor’s memory awakening, he and Loki had been on the path to true brotherhood and not animosity. Sif was finally in Loki’s grasp, and she’d willingly put herself there. If remaining on this miserable rock meant he kept his heart’s desire, Loki was determined to live the remainder of his unnaturally long life here. 

To achieve that end he had to ensure Sif never regained her memories, for she would surely terminate the last bit of happiness in his life. She might even consider it her duty as shieldmaiden of Asgard to return Loki to his magical prison. He could not risk imprisonment. He could not risk her love.

In the morning, they would away to help the locals as soon as the sun rose, and he would keep her as distanced from Thor as he possibly could. 

Leaning down, Loki placed a tender kiss across her brow. He would spend the remainder of his days being the best version of himself, devoting himself, to her. She would be his salvation.


	7. Chapter 7

Loki was different. 

Not that Sif was complaining, because she liked this version of Loki. Instead of dragging him along with her to help in hurricane relief, he was up before her, pushing her out the door minutes after she awoke, offering grand speeches about service and helping the little people and doesn’t it make you feel good to be useful, Sif? 

It was not lost on her that his newfound zeal for service coincided with Thor’s new girlfriend, nor the fact that suddenly they were never in the same room as Thor. However, given the massive amount of work to be done, she didn’t have time to dwell on it, instead choosing to be grateful that Loki was finally doing his civic duty, and willingly. 

When pressed about it, Loki simply said, “This is the closest we’re getting to a date for months to come, so let’s be grateful we can be together.”

The response was so sweet and romantic it took Sif two days to remember Loki’s disdain for physical labor.

She wasn’t stupid; she knew he’d been cutting out of disaster relief early, retiring to Stud Finder to work around the shop. He’d at least been doing something useful, so she hadn’t gotten on his case, but now with him working from sunup to sun down and going out of his way to avoid his brother…

Perhaps Loki wasn’t so different after all.

“Did you two argue?” she asked as they were cleaning up vinyl siding in a suburban neighborhood. 

“Are we ever not arguing?” he replied, tossing an armful of siding into the growing pile along the curb.

“You made amends during the hurricane,” she reminded him, tossing her vinyl onto the pile after his. It was distressing handling the broken siding and knowing it had once protected someone’s home, but was now nothing more than garbage. 

“Did we?” Loki asked, pausing to wipe his brow. “Or did Thor get impaled with a bit of debris, prematurely ending our reconciliation?”

Oh yes, the boys had definitely had a fight, and no amount of wheedling could induce Loki to share with her what his current problem with his brother was. Even well placed searing kisses left her with nothing more than his pleased smile. 

Sif’s next line of attack was to corner Thor and get the truth from him, but he was nowhere to be found. Loki was effectively avoiding him, and as Sif was always with Loki, that in turn meant she was effectively avoiding Thor. 

One morning she suggested splitting up to cover more ground with the intent of finding Thor, but Loki gave her such a mournful look as he morosely said that was a good idea that she immediately backtracked. Sad Loki wasn’t a sight she was used to, and even though she _knew_ he was manipulating her, she let him. She intensely disliked that expression, so different from his usual angry arrogance. 

Did it really matter if she knew what the brothers were fighting about? she reasoned as they once again ate a thrilling lunch of peanut butter sandwiches. Their fights weren’t her fights. And though she currently wasn’t seeing Thor, it’s not like he was searching her out, so clearly he wasn’t distressed about it. Give it enough time and Loki would calm down, and then maybe she could broker peace between them. Or lock them in Stud Finder until they brokered their own peace. 

Still, as one week dragged into two, it was getting annoying.

“Why don’t we cut out early today and go home?” Sif asked, wiping sweat from her brow.

“And leave these people in the lurch?” Loki said, sounding genuinely surprised at her selfishness. “Sif, we can’t do that.” 

She wanted to encourage his good behavior, not cut it off prematurely, so she grumbled, “Fine…”

The next day, she tried tempting him with lunch. “We have actual food at the store,” she said, waving their increasingly dull peanut butter sandwiches at him. 

“True, but travel time means we’ll have just enough time to walk in, eat peanut butter sandwiches, and immediately return if we don’t want to be late starting our afternoon work.”

He had a point, and she hated it. 

The next day, she tried keeping him close to home. “There is so much that needs to be done in our neck of the woods!”

“But as badly as we were hit, Sif, we’re a commercial area. Homes should be our top priority.” He gave her a look, not quite judgmental, not quite sorrowful, but it made her feel guilty nonetheless.

“Fine.”

The next day they finished their work early. Perfect, she thought, lacing her fingers with Loki’s. “Let’s go home,” she whispered in his ear, knowing her meaning came across as he shivered. Not that that was what she planned to do upon returning to the store, but she was willing to lie to get what she wanted.

“Brilliant idea,” he murmured in return, then pulled back and grinned. “But I have a better one.” Tugging on her hand, he led her to a stretch of beach that had been cleared of debris. “We could use a break. We’ve been working hard.” 

He smiled so widely, Sif didn’t have the heart to crush it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him this happy, so an evening of frolicking along the beach was in order, and once again she lost an opportunity to find out what was wrong with him and Thor. 

Worth it, she thought that night as they shook out their clothes, finding sand everywhere, with Loki laughing at the mess they were making. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him laugh in this dingy space, and it warmed her heart.

Tomorrow, she told herself, knowing it was a lie.

It was another three days before she finally came up with a viable idea: leave before Loki woke up. It was so stupidly simple she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before. 

There was no way she would wake before him, given her lack of alarm clock and his newfound zeal for early mornings, so instead she stayed awake, listening to the lullaby of his deep, even breathing. She memorized the sound as her fingers softly tapped out meaningless patterns along his arm, wondering how mad he would be at her deception and if this was her last peaceful night with him. 

Sometime well after midnight, Sif wiggled out of Loki’s embrace, dressed, and left the store before her love awoke. She left him another sharpie note on his arm and blew a kiss as she retreated.

Sound was dampened in the pre-dawn hours as everyone and everything slept. Even her own footfalls were mostly silent, and for a brief moment Sif imagined herself on a quest to serve her prince--Loki, of course, who was playing the part of princess in distress in this fantasy, while she was the worthy knight. 

Perhaps Thor was the princess in distress, and Loki the evil dragon she had to save him from. 

She smiled.

It was too early to seek Thor when she did not know his location and there was no one around to ask, so Sif made herself busy in the center of town by clearing the sidewalks of leftover storm debris. The roads downtown had long been cleared and mostly patched, allowing for electricity relief to make its way into and around town. It wouldn’t be long before all the power was restored and they could put serious effort into revitalizing Stud Finder--and enjoy the air conditioning, which, at this point, was what Sif wanted back the most. She’d happily sacrifice getting a new apartment, eating better food, and reopening the store in exchange for sitting in front of the cool air. 

Shortly after dawn people in yellow t-shirts started meandering around town, identifying projects and getting to work. Sif didn’t know which religion these volunteers had come from, but she’d seen them everywhere, assisting with disaster relief. The nobility of man touched her; their tiny corner of the world easily could have been ignored, but instead volunteers flocked to the area to offer assistance. Better yet, they camped outside of town and brought their own food, refusing to drain the victims’ meager resources. Sif waved at every person she saw and wished them all the best.

It took over an hour of asking around, but finally she was pointed in the direction of a camper van where multiple witnesses claimed to have seen her beefy friend. Approaching the vehicle cautiously, Sif listened for sounds of life inside. Faintly she thought she could hear breathing…

Sif shook her head. What foolish fancy was that, to imagine she could hear _breathing_ through solid walls?

No other noise indicated that the van was occupied, so either Thor and his little lady had already left for the day, or they were still asleep. If it was the former, Sif had quite the journey ahead of her. If it was the latter, the two lazy birds should long since be awake and out helping with cleanup, and she did not feel the least bit remorseful at waking them. Pounding on the camper van’s door, Sif shouted, “THOR!”

Startled noises told Sif she’d woken the inhabitants of the camper, and moments later Thor opened the door, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Sif?” he asked through a massive yawn.

“I have been looking for you for weeks,” she said, grabbing his t-shirt and pulling him out of the van. “I get that Loki is mad at you, but to avoid me, as well?”

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” Thor said, yawning again. “I just couldn’t find you.”

“I live at the store!”

“You were never there. Believe me, I looked.”

Sif ran a hand through her hair. “We’re there every night, Thor. It’s the only place we have to sleep.”

“And you’re gone before sunup. I tried tracking you through town, but you and Loki are never in the same place twice, and the one time I got close enough to actually see you, I determined it was best to let Loki continue in his community service.”

“He’s doing that on purpose. If he’s engaged in a good cause, you and I can’t have a serious talk with him, and he knows it.”

Thor yawned once more, so wide Sif heard his jaw pop. “Apologies,” he said, shifting his lower jaw back and forth. “I did not sleep much last night.”

“I don’t want to hear about your amorous activities--”

To her surprise, Thor blushed. _Thor Odinson_ , self-proclaimed man whore, _blushed_. “I do not mean _that_ ,” he rushed to assure her, his whole face red. “Jane and I were offering assistance with school children, and we didn’t finish until well after dark.”

“Your whole face is red,” Sif said, resulting in his face turning an even darker shade. “My goodness, I didn’t know you could still do that!” she said, deeply regretting that she did not have a camera. 

Thor stammered and stuttered his way through an incoherent statement that left Sif grinning like the Cheshire Cat until he abruptly changed the subject. “Where’s my brother?” he demanded, looking around, no doubt to see if Loki was hiding in the foliage. 

“Not here,” Sif said, willing to let his blushing go for the moment, though she fully intended on sharing it with Loki later. “I had to sneak away to find you; he’s been thwarting my every attempt these last few weeks.”

“Really?” Thor asked, perking up. “He remembers then, does he?”

“That you two had a fight? Yes, and he won’t tell me about it, which tells me just how bad it is. I thought you two were moving past all that after the hurricane.”

The door to the camper van opened, interrupting whatever reply Thor was about to make. Jane poked her head out, her hair looking very much like she’d just been asleep. Sif was glad she wasn’t the only who who looked a right mess first thing in the morning. “Thor?” Jane asked, her voice sounding sleepy but her eyes as sharp as a hawk’s. Her eyes landed on Sif, and after a beat she smiled. Sif had the distinct impression that Loki’s presence would have resulted in a scowl. “Good morning, Lady Sif,” Jane said. 

Sif barely refrained from rolling her eyes. This again? “Just Sif,” she said firmly. 

“Give me a moment,” Jane said, disappearing inside, presumably to dress and run a brush through her hair. 

Thor stared after Jane like she was the sun, the moon, and the stars. Besotted was the best word to describe him, and it looked unusual on his usually grinning face. “Really?” Sif asked skeptically. “You fell for the crazy lady?”

“She hit me with her van,” Thor said happily, “then her assistant tased me. Best thing to ever happen to me.”

Sif’s eyebrows went up. Perhaps Loki was right to avoid his crazy brother. 

Jane tumbled out, her shoes half on. Thor reached out a hand to steady her, and Sif had to refrain from gagging at the lovestruck look the two gave each other. She and Loki never looked like that, she was sure! “Thank you,” Jane said breathlessly, as if Thor had saved her from impending doom and not from a tiny stumble. If magic existed, Sif would accuse the woman of dosing Thor with a love potion, for there was no other logical explanation for this--this _puppy_ love. 

Remembering Jane’s absurd claims and ridiculous videos, Sif reassessed. Maybe the woman had used a love potion. “Thor, how many fingers am I holding up?” Sif asked, tempted just to lift her middle finger, but choosing instead to raise three fingers.

“My head isn’t addled, Sif,” Thor huffed, tucking Jane into his side. “I simply remember what I was forced to forget.”

Well, Sif now had her answer as to why Loki was avoiding Thor. She didn’t want to hang around him, either, acting like this. “Right,” she said. “I’ll leave you two to it. I have to get back to Loki.” And hope he wasn’t too upset over the message she’d scribbled on his arm--though once she agreed with him that Thor had lost his marbles, she had no doubt he’d get over his irritation. (And if not, she’d kiss it better. That always seemed to work.)

Thor and Jane exchanged a look, and Thor stepped away from her. “Sif, wait,” he said, holding out a hand toward her. “I would speak with you.”

“If it’s your turn to take a ride on the crazy train, then let’s save ourselves a fight and skip to the part where I don’t believe you,” she said, taking a step back. “My Floridian self--”

“Is undeniably strong,” Thor interrupted her, “which doesn’t align with your human physics. My magically healed injury? Also defies science. Those more than anything should give you pause, even if they’re not enough to convince you.”

It did give her pause, Sif was irritated to note. Pursing her lips, she crossed her arms. “It doesn’t make us magical beings from another...what, world? Planet?”

“Realm,” Thor offered, and Sif scowled.

“It’s a stupid word,” she informed him, “and I’m beginning to think Loki is right for keeping you at arm’s length.”

“Of course he is, considering I’m responsible for his incarceration.”

“Jail! Now that’s a good one.”

Jane moved forward, placing her hand on Thor’s arm. Sif suddenly felt protective of her friend and wanted to remove Jane’s person from his presence, taking measures to ensure the mortal never interfered with her prince again. 

Sif shook her head vigorously; these two were getting to her. “You know I’m right, Sif,” Thor said confidently. “Search your feelings; you know it to be true.”

“Now that’s evidence that you’re off your rocker,” Sif said. “What extra-terrestrial being quotes Star Wars to make a point?”

Jane frowned. “She has a point,” she said slowly. “I know you’ve never seen Star Wars, so how are you quoting it?”

“Of course I’ve seen Star Wars,” Thor said, offended. “Loki and I marathoned it for weeks on end in high school!” He paused. “Well, at least, I think we did.” He frowned. “No, I guess we didn’t, as we did not receive a Midgardian education.” His frown deepened. “And yet I have such clear memories of doing so.”

“Because you did,” Sif told him, “and I joined you, more than once.”

“Incredible,” Jane said, her voice sounding very different. “You have memories specific to continuing your human charade. Is this a spell? Has Loki masterfully manipulated memory in addition to wiping it? Or are there other forces at play?” She peered scrutinizingly at Thor, slowly circling him. “Could this possibly be a side effect of long-term use of the Einstein-Rosen bridge? From what you’ve told me, you don’t usually travel on it very often, and certainly not repeatedly to the same location. Could there be side effects your people are unaware of simply because you’ve never experimented with the possibilities?”

“I’m not the brainiac in the family,” Thor told her. “You should ask Loki--or better yet, ask Sif’s brother. He mans the bridge.”

As an only child, Sif found that particularly offensive, and made a rude gesture to let Thor know she thought so.

“Whatever, crazies,” she said. “I’m out.” This time no one moved to stop her, and Sif made it several hundred feet before her audience thought better of letting her leave.

Unlike normal people, who call out or shout something like “STOP,” Thor opted to tackle Sif. Being built like a linebacker, it was a decidedly unpleasant experience for Sif, and she would have happily punched him in retaliation if she wasn’t sitting squashed under his giant frame. Struggling to breathe, she couldn’t even articulate her need for him to stop restricting her lungs, and had to settle for hitting the ground repeatedly.

“Stop being a baby,” Thor told her, completely unfazed by her wheezing. “You’ve been hit harder than this in training. In fact, I remember Volstagg once sitting on you for six hours while we waited for that poison to exit your system.”

Sif pounded the ground harder, gasping for breath.

“Thor! Get off her!” Jane shouted, running up and attempting to move him. Sif repented of all her evil thoughts toward Jane; this woman was a saint.

Thor didn’t so much as budge. 

An ineffective saint, then. At least she tried. “Sif is fine,” Thor said conversationally. “Annoyed with me, sure, but in no danger of injury or death.”

“It’s not _her_ death I’m worried about,” Jane said, biting her lip. “I just found you again; if I have to bury you, I will--”

Whatever she would do was cut off as Sif remembered she had feet, using her last bit of strength to land a blow to Thor’s back. It didn’t do much damage, but moved him enough allow for intake of breath. She immediately flipped over, dislodging him completely, and slugged him in the face, resulting in a full blown scuffle. Jane shouted at the two of them, but her words were lost in the heat of battle. 

It ended when Sif bit Thor’s hand. He scurried away, shaking it. “Enough, rabid woman,” he said.

“You are insane!” Sif shouted at him. “What the hell is wrong with you? I never thought I’d say this, but Loki’s right: you’re a menace to society!”

Without warning, Thor pounced again, and in short order had Sif trounced up like a pig. “Jane, get me some rope,” he ordered. Jane hesitated, unsure, but clearly her loyalty was with Thor as she found the rope and helped him tie up Sif (who was allowing this to happen as gracefully as Loki would, meaning she was squirming like a worm on a hot summer’s day, spewing forth a litany of curses). “I am sorry, Sif,” Thor said grimly when his work was done. He wiped the sweat off his forehead. “I know you don’t remember now, but I do, and I know you’d never forgive me if I didn’t do everything in my power to restore your memory to you.”

“Insane,” she hissed. His face was etched in tragedy, and for a moment, Sif remembered a twin expression when Thor was banished to Earth.

She shook her head. His words were playing with her; she remembered no such thing. 

Thor and Jane retreated to discuss what to do with Sif, leaving her to suffer the indignities of being tied up. Now would be an opportune moment for someone, _anyone_ , to walk by, but Jane’s camper van was parked just far enough outside town that that was unlikely. Sif should have brought Loki with her; at least he’d be on her side.

She wondered what her boyfriend was doing, and how upset he was with her. She sighed; now she had two Odinson brothers unhappy with her, and still no answers.

Suddenly Thor’s face was in front of hers. “Forgive me,” he said, grabbing her face and kissing her.

The kiss didn’t last long, but it left Sif speechless, her eyes wide and lips forming an O of surprise.

“Sif?” Thor asked. “Did it work?” He sounded so hopeful she almost forgot her irritation with him, but shock held her tongue.

_Thank goodness Loki wasn’t around to see that._

Jane placed her hand on Thor’s shoulder. “I don’t think you did anything other than fry her brain,” 

Thor frowned. “It shouldn’t have had that sort of impact.”

Sif begged to differ; her heart may belong to Loki, but she wasn’t immune to Thor’s charms, and being kissed by a stunning specimen of manhood like him was enough to render any woman speechless.

“Oh, I’ve got an idea,” Jane said, her words barely penetrating the fog of shock in Sif’s brain. A moment later Sif’s bonds were undone, and she stood, rubbing her wrist where the rope had chafed her. She hadn’t been bound for very long, but it was extremely uncomfortable. She had newfound sympathy for fictional victims left tied up for hours on end.

Instinct flared, and Sif’s right arm shot out to catch a length of rebar Thor threw at her head. Without thinking, she gripped it with both hands and transitioned into battle, bringing the rebar down to clash with Thor’s length of rebar. As metal clashed against metal, Sif stared at Thor, mouth agape. How…?

A rush of memories hit her at once: 

A young girl demanding to train with the men.

The training yard.

Endless drills.

Mastering the sword.

Endless hours of sparring with the Warriors Three and the two princes. 

Battling foes a-plenty, culminating in the Frost Giants, the Destroyer, and Loki...

A lesser warrior would have dropped their weapon in the face of such emotional onslaught, but Sif wasn’t the Shieldmaiden of Asgard for nothing. As the course of her life swept over her, she pressed her rebar more forcefully against Thor’s, clinging to the familiarity of the action to steady her.

“Now do you remember?” Thor asked softly.

Sif dropped to her knees. “My prince,” she gasped, still reeling from the revelation of it all. 

“Sif,” Thor said, voice laden with emotion, as he, too, fell to his knees, their rebar swords clanging to the ground. He clasped her head, bringing their foreheads together. “Loyal Sif.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “Loki,” she whispered, remembering with sudden clarity the crimes that had landed him in Asgard’s dungeons. “Oh, Thor-- _Loki_.”

“I know,” he said quietly.

They were silent for a time, letting the emotion of the moment pass through them. Though tears threatened to fall, they remained in Sif’s eyes, slowly drying as she breathed deeply. How had they come to Midgard and been so thoroughly convinced their lives were centered here? Sif had clear memories of high school, of Loki hiding behind his hurt while she pretended she didn’t love him. Now that she could think clearly, those moments aligned with her true history. Four measly years of pining meant little when she considered the centuries of longing she’d endured. The animosity between her two friends mirrored their issues in recent years--perhaps not so recent, considering Loki’s deep hurt over the perceived slights at the hands of his brother. How long had he been hurting, feeling inferior to Thor? Was it all part of why he never courted her, thinking Thor had staked a claim? 

She suddenly remembered Jane Foster’s videos of the destruction in New York and her own hurt at Loki sending the Destroyer after her and her friends during Thor’s banishment. Resentment flared, new and old. New, for he clearly remembered their past and actively prevented her from retrieving her own memories. Old, for even in his hurt over...whatever had been hurting him, he’d--

Sif sat up, ramrod straight, locking her eyes with Thor’s. In the elevator, Loki told her he’d been adopted. It had caused deep distress and been a major event in his life. For something that strong to carry over from their life in Asgard… “Is Loki adopted?” she demanded. 

Thor looked genuinely surprised. “You didn’t know?” he asked. She shook her head. She knew of his Midgardian adoption, of course, but not that it was true in reality. “I forgot that isn’t common knowledge. I only found out after I was banished, after Loki fell off the Rainbow Bridge.” His face sharpened, looking at her intensely. “His birth doesn’t make him inferior. He is still my brother.”

“I know that,” Sif said, annoyed. “He and I have already been over that, as he confessed it to me in the elevator. Any ill regard I hold for him is entirely due to his actions; being birthed by different parents doesn’t fundamentally alter who he is.”

Thor shook his head. “Perhaps not on Midgard, but Loki’s adoption did fundamentally alter him. Or rather, it revealed his differences on a fundamental level.”

“Adoption doesn’t change--”

“It does when you discover you’re Jotun, not Aesir,” Thor said, cutting her off.

Sif’s words died on her tongue.

_Jotun?_

Child of criminals, indeed. His Midgardian history hit that nail on the head.

Jotun.

“When did he learn the nature of his birth?” Sif asked. “Before or after he sent the Destroyer after us? Before or after he helped orchestrate your banishment?”

“After my banishment, but before the Destroyer.”

Sif collapsed backward onto the grass, staring at the expansive blue sky. The adoption hadn’t played part in Thor’s banishment, then. Had Loki always felt second best? It must have festered a long time to result in banishing his brother. Though in all fairness, Thor had needed a swift kick in the pants, and Loki’s orchestrations had resulted in just that. 

The Destroyer came after the adoption, however. How angry he must have been to send such a powerful foe after his own friends--after her. It had smarted at the time, knowing he valued her life so little as to attempt to end it. Then hearing of his own demise… Sif remembered the feast Odin threw in honour of defeating the enemy, how all of Asgard celebrated their victory, yet how empty it felt knowing Loki had fallen to his death.

Of course, the Trickster hadn’t actually died, and while Sif was happy Loki’s life wasn’t over, she was greatly displeased with the track he took after abandoning his home, family, and friends. To attack Midgard and murder so many helpless mortals… His determination to keep her from Thor these past few weeks was suddenly shed in a new light. Anger surged. “Loki remembers,” she said to Thor and Jane, both of whom were looking at her. “He hasn’t been avoiding you; he’s been keeping me away so I can’t remember how angry I am with him.”

“I thought as much,” Thor said.

Sif hit the ground with her fist, remembering anew how it felt to watch Loki return to Asgard in chains. She’d hidden in the shadows, avoiding his line of sight, for she couldn’t bear for him to see her. Rather than returning home--returning to her--he sold his soul and attacked innocent mortals, slaughtering the masses. She remembered the arrogance of his posture as he stood, then knelt, before the Allfather, defiance in his every action. Even the tiniest twitch shouted of disrespect and disdain for his home and family. 

“Thor tells me you two have been dating,” Jane said. Sif clenched her teeth against the wave of emotion at Jane’s words. Her Asgardian memories were returned, but they did not overpower her Midgardian experiences. Sidling up to her anger was her recently reciprocated affections for Loki. As angry as she was with him, she also loved him--loved him so much. Part of her wanted to re-arrest him and throw him into Asgard’s dungeons to rot for all eternity, and part of her wanted to run away with him and avoid life’s ills together.

“It’s been a recent choice, yes,” Sif said at last, unsure whether it was a choice she wanted to continue.

Thor read her meaning. “Don’t give up on him now,” he said, “for Loki will need your support more than ever if he is to be rehabilitated.”

Sif sat up, glaring at her friend. “It is not my responsibility to fix him.”

“Peace, Sif; I said support, not fix.”

“It’s not my responsibility to support him, either.”

“Someone should be by his side; he should not do this alone.”

“Why must it be me?”

“Because you love him.”

“Do I?” she demanded.

“Yes,” Thor said, so firmly, Sif couldn’t pretend otherwise. 

Melancholy settled heavily on her shoulders, and she fell back onto the grass once again. “I do,” she said softly, “though it will do me no favours in the coming days.” Thor reached out and took her hand, and she knew he understood.

“Well I think he’s a jackass, so if you want to dump him, I’m in full support,” Jane said.

Looking up, Sif smiled at Jane’s fierce look. “I like her,” she said to Thor. 

“I do, too,” Thor said, giving his love a besotted look. Sif transferred her amused smile to him, then let it slowly fade. 

She needed to find Loki. They had a long conversation ahead of them--many long conversations. Her breath hitched; she wasn’t even sure he would speak with her, once he realized she’d regained her memories, or if she’d be able to use words when facing him again. Proper communication had never been their strong point.

Idly she wondered if there were any broken elevators nearby. 


	8. Chapter 8

This was twice now that Sif had dared defile him. Her scribbled note about fishing had been bad enough, but now she’d dared to sketch stick figures on his arm. Loki was a work of art. Fines should be levied for her impudence, or perhaps she should enjoy a stay in the dungeons of Asgard for her vandalism.

No, don’t think about dungeons--focus on her impudence, _anything_ other than the fact she probably remembered their past, and their fairy tale existence was at an end.

They had been scheduled that day to continue cleanup in a somewhat distant neighbourhood, but when Loki woke alone, he opted instead to help out closer to home so he would see Sif when she returned.

If she returned.

Shaking his head vigorously, Loki threw himself into cleanup. Stay too busy to think, he reminded himself, hefting building debris into a dumpster.

He wondered if Heimdall was watching, if he was reporting back to Odin, and what precisely he was reporting. Really, he should let the Allfather know Loki was doing physical labour, and voluntarily, at that. The old man might fall over dead from shock, leaving the throne open for his sons to battle over. Loki would, of course, win, as all he had to do was have Thor’s mortal walk by and Thor would struggle to remember his own name. If Loki had known it would be that easy, he might have thought twice about allowing Frost Giants entrance into Asgard. 

Familiar anger swept over him as he remembered Thor’s cavalier attitude toward ruling Asgard, and Odin’s willful blindness to Thor’s flaws on the eve of handing over the Realm. Fandral would have made a better Allfather, but Odin was so determined to see his natural son on the throne that he paid little heed to Thor’s inadequacies. Loki wasn’t even given consideration due to the nature of his birth, which was not only not his fault, but a fact he’d been unaware of at the time.

Odin should have left him to die in the snow as an infant, he thought bitterly. It would have saved the family many problems, and better yet, Asgard would undoubtedly be in ruins by now at the hand of her incompetent new king.

The fact that banishing Thor had only improved him, making him into the worthy heir Odin craved, only served to infuriate Loki. His brother couldn’t even be banished properly. At least he’d had the good sense to fall for a lousy mortal--what Loki wouldn’t have given to be present for that conversation with their father. Romance was the one thing Loki had going for him: he fell for Sif, a woman worthy of the Allfather’s admiration, given how often her name had been bandied about as a possible match for Thor. 

Of course, snatching her away from his brother would undoubtedly be another entry in the long list of reasons why Loki was inadequate as a son. Not that it mattered; Sif might never speak to him again, rendering the whole point moot.

Pausing in his garbage disposal, Loki leaned his head against the side of the dumpster, ignoring the grime. Sif was the only good thing in his life, and if he lost her, he wasn’t sure it was worth it to keep progressing. 

It wasn’t worth it to keep doing disaster relief, either. Now that he remembered who he was, he was only here because of Sif. If she wasn’t around, there was no need to help the mortals. Let them struggle for their own survival.

He made to walk away, but hesitated. He didn’t actually _know_ Sif had gone to Thor, so on the slight chance she hadn’t, he oughtn’t sabotage himself prematurely. And even if she had, willingly offering service to the mortals might go a long way with her. Perhaps she would swallow her anger in the face of his selfless acts. 

Not likely, but he was determined to give himself a fighting chance.

Which brought Loki back to something that had been bothering him: since he’d destroyed most of New York, why weren’t the locals trying to hang him? He knew little about Midgardian politics, but if an enemy attacked part of Asgard, they’d attacked all of Asgard. Under the Allfather’s rule, attack any of his Realms, you’d attacked Asgard. Here, however… Did Florida care so little for New York? 

He couldn’t claim his Midgardian disguise was doing him any favours, because even if it was, his secrecy was blown to Hel once Sif plastered his and Thor’s faces all over town. Did humans not care about each other? He knew their geo-political boundaries held some meaning, and though many countries did not care about other countries, even actively hating each other, he at least thought intra-country relations would matter. 

Now that he had a mortal lifetime’s worth of Midgardian knowledge stuffed in his head, he knew that instead of attacking New York he should have gone after one of the third world countries. Somewhere in Africa, perhaps. Not many Midgardians would have cared, if they’d even noticed. Africa was sizeably larger than the other continents; if he’d brought order to their disordered lives, he could have easily amassed a large human army to work alongside his Chitauri army, then slowly moved up and out. The Middle East, Europe and Asia--by the time the Avengers heard of his schemes, he’d own half the world, and there’d be little they could do about it. America would have been easy pickings at that point.

He shook his head; if he’d studied his battlefield in advance, perhaps his glorious purpose would have been attained. Odin would have had to respect a fellow Realm leader--well, he’d have to deal with Loki, at least; respect was a tall order--and Loki might have finally received the recognition he deserved. 

Next time, he promised himself, he wouldn’t rush his plans. Hasty actions led to botched coups and Loki languishing in prison.

Which led to another question: why wasn’t he still locked in the dungeon? The only time Asgard had been breached in recent memory had been at his own hands, and he was willing to bet Odin’s tightened security precluded any unwanted visitors. Therefore, it stood to reason that Loki being out of the dungeon, living a life of relative ease with his brother and the woman he loved…

...had to be a gift from Odin. 

Which could not be, of course; even if Odin retained an ounce of affection for his younger son, he certainly wouldn’t risk his power in the political arena by loosing a convicted felon on the ill-prepared people of Midgard, especially one whom the Avengers desperately wanted to get their hands on.

Maybe this whole mad plot had been orchestrated at the hands of Loki, and he simply spelled himself to forget so he could not be held accountable. That sounded far more likely.

*

Sif and Thor found him midafternoon. Loki saw them coming, but affected not to notice as he continued throwing away garbage and debris piles. 

He did, however, pause to elegantly wipe sweat from his brow when Sif was in the best position to appreciate his form. His efforts were not in vain; out of the corner of his eye, he saw her stumble and her jaw drop ever so slightly before returning to her stony expression. 

Infuriated with him or not, Loki could still light a fire in her veins. He didn’t bother to hide his smirk. 

“Brother,” Thor greeted, his tone neither warm nor cold.

“Favoured son,” Loki returned. “Where have you been? It’s been weeks since Sif and I last saw you.”

“Don’t,” Sif said. “You know why we are here and we will not be distracted from our purpose.”

“On the contrary, dear Sif,” Loki said, “I haven’t the faintest idea what brings the Realm’s beloved prince and our favoured Shieldmaiden to my side, though there are so many options to choose from. Have you arrived at last to admit your undying love for each other? To assist in disaster relief for the mortals? To admit I should have been the star of your calendar?”

“I tried to make you the star of the calend--no, irrelevant,” Sif said. “Don’t distract us from our purpose.”

“I would never,” Loki said sincerely, making his visitors pause. “But as long as you are here and have nothing to say, I would recruit your assistance. Many hands make light work, after all.”

Thor and Sif exchanged an unsure look, so Loki returned to work. 

“What are you doing?” Sif asked hesitantly.

Looking between the dumpster, his work clothes, and the pile of debris he was clearing, Loki said mildly, “I thought that was obvious.” Sif’s lips tightened.

“Work? _My_ brother?” Thor asked, his voice not quite disbelieving, but well on its way there. Loki refrained from making a snide comment, but only barely.

“If you’re not going to offer assistance, please leave,” Loki said, “so I may work in peace and enjoy the burning sun without interference.”

“You hate the heat,” Sif blurted out. “Always have. Odin’s beard, it’s so obvious in hindsight.”

It was her wondering tone of voice that informed Loki Sif now knew about his true heritage, and his blood turned to ice. Being descended from Frost Giants was one thing, but for Sif to know? He had sincerely hoped she would never find out, would never have cause to look on him like the worm he knew she thought he was. 

Grabbing a hunk of debris, Loki hurled it at Thor, who barely managed to dodge it, surprise coating his face. Loki glared. “You had to tell her, didn’t you?” he snarled. “It’s not enough that I’m the family shame, so you must broadcast it to any who have ever looked upon me with a kind thought.”

“You told her yourself in that elevator,” Thor said. 

“I _did_ _not_ \--”

“You did, too,” Sif interrupted. “Maybe not that you’re Jotun, but that you’re adopted, and I asked about it. Thor merely confirmed what I already knew.”

Loki gave her a flat look. “You knew I was Jotun,” he said more than asked.

“Well, no, but--”

“So Thor betrayed my secret.”

“He’s not the one you’re angry with.”

“Of course, dear Sif, you’re right! I’m not upset with the person who shared my deepest secret with the woman I love. I actually prefer it when he spills family secrets, spreading the gossip of my shame. I’m _so damn happy_ he went that route! Thank you for reminding me.”

“Your petulance does you no favours, brother,” Thor said.

“Neither do you,” Loki smoothly replied. “Now excuse me. I have work to do.”

Sif moved to block Loki from the dumpster, crossing her arms. “It’s not Thor you’re angry with, but yourself,” she said. “Yet rather than face the consequences of your actions, you’d blame him.”

Loki spread his arms wide, taking in all of Florida. “You are absolutely right,” he said. “I’m not accepting any blame, and I’m certainly not performing community service! So grateful you’re here to remind me of what I do and do not feel, and what I am and am not doing. How I managed to survive all these years without you, I’ll never know.”

Sif’s face burned red with anger. “Biting sarcasm will get you nowhere,” she snapped.

“On the contrary,” Loki said, “it got me out of prison and a relationship with the woman of my choice. I think it’s done rather well for me.” He turned to his brother, who was deeply frowning. “As for you, you’re welcome.”

Thor’s forehead creased with confusion. “For what?”

“Making you into the man you are today. Without my interference, you’d be the worst king on record and Asgard would undoubtedly be in ruins by now. And for your Midgardian. Without my influence, you never would have met her, or found your merry band of Midgardian miscreants--do the Three know they’ve been replaced, by the way? You should really tell them before Fandral embroiders your name on any more pillows.” Loki moved away from Sif, stepping around Thor as if inspecting him. Loki nodded approvingly. “I do believe that means everything good in your life can be traced back to me. You’re welcome.”

It was satisfying, watching Thor gape like a fish as he tried to construct an argument to refute Loki’s words. Technically, every word spoken was truth. Everyone assumed that as the god of mischief and trickery he only spoke in lies, but a well placed truth could be just as much fun as deception. 

“That is no way to speak to the crown prince,” Sif said angrily, but Loki held up a finger, cutting her off. 

“As for you, you ought to be grateful I didn’t throw you in the dungeon for treason.” He cut off abruptly, remembering her betrayal as she once again chose Thor over him, the then rightful king. Humiliation and anger warred within him, but he would not give his audience the satisfaction of witnessing it, so he said, “This is not a fight I wish to have in public.” He cast a spell so he disappeared from their view, then surveyed his work. If he wished them to truly think him gone, he would have to wait to make noise until they left. 

“Loki!” Sif shouted. He held his peace. She waited, then turned to Thor. “I hate it when he does that,” she growled. “Leaving in the middle of an argument is childish! Just once can’t he finish a conversation without turning tail and running?”

“In his defense, I think he’s willing to fight with you later,” Thor said.

“In his defense, he belongs in the dungeon!”

“That’s...not a defense.”

Sif shoved a finger in Thor’s face. “Don’t.” Thor held up his hands, and she relaxed. Jealousy spiked in Loki; he hated watching them and wished they would just leave. “Loki, if you can hear me,” Sif said, turning in a slow circle to encompass the entire area, “I will be at Stud Finder. We will continue this fight.” Her fierce expression did nothing to diminish her beauty, and Loki hated how attractive he found her in her anger. “Do not leave me waiting long.” And she stalked off.

“Glad I’m not you, brother,” Thor said conversationally. “If you value the freedom you have, speak with her. Then I will have words with you.” He, too, left.

The moment Thor vanished from view, Loki set him from his mind. Nothing Thor could say or do would have the same lasting effects as speaking with Sif. 

However.

Picking up another piece of debris, Loki resumed working. He was at no one’s beck and call. Sif could wait.

**

Sif was incensed. Dealing with Loki was difficult enough, but his vanishing act was nothing but disrespectful. She had thought he would have some interest in addressing her, given their recent relationship under their Midgardian guise, but apparently that meant as little to him as everything else.

She hadn’t felt this upset about a relationship since Haldor left her for Lorelei. 

Sif wished for an asphalt truck. With how she felt, she could pull it under her own power to fix the roads, no fuel necessary. It would be hard, honest work, and she could use some of that right now. 

A spar would also be nice, but no mortal foe was her equal, and neither brother was nearby, leaving her with no worthy opponent. For the third time that hour she called out to Heimdall, but once again the Bifrost remained closed. Why had she been banished down here, and why wouldn’t Asgard let her return home? 

If their banishment was truly Loki’s doing, Asgard could be in ruins, with Heimdall dead, leaving no one to answer her call. If it wasn’t Loki’s doing… if it wasn’t Loki’s doing, then it must be at the behest of the Allfather, for no one else had the power to free Loki, let alone send him away with friends.

( _Former_ friends _,_ she viciously thought.)

And if it was the Allfather’s orchestrations, that meant there must be a purpose to their presence on Midgard. Sif growled; if that was true, it meant she could not return home until her purpose, whatever it was, was accomplished. That meant she must speak to her erstwhile lover. 

Dropping to the ground, Sif landed a punch on the torn up asphalt, the only opponent that could handle her abuse. Erstwhile lover indeed. He’d be lucky if she ever looked at him again.

She was tempted to storm out and track down Loki, but knew it would do little good. So long as he was being petulant, he could magic himself into invisibility and trick her senses so she never found him. Waiting here was her best bet of finding him, and making her wait was no doubt his paltry attempt to control the situation. 

But Sif would outwait him. She had words to share, and he would hear them.

Another half hour passed before Loki arrived, looking devastatingly handsome in a fine sheen of sweat from the Florida heat. Sif’s pulse spiked, and she regretted how attractive she found him. Crossing her arms, she determined not to let him know.

“You’re late,” she said coldly.

“A Loki is never late, nor is he early,” he replied, tugging his shirt off to wipe his face. Sif clenched her teeth; he was doing this on purpose, but she would not let him know how it affected her. “He always arrives precisely when he means to.”

“Don’t quote Midgardian media at me.”

“Why ever not? I now have a lifetime of useless information stored in here,” he tapped his head, “and I must find a use for it.”

“How did you manage it?” she asked. “How did you cast such a detailed spell that not one of the three of us questioned the validity of our lives?”

Loki made a great show of rooting through his clothing for a clean shirt, giving Sif ample time to admire the rippling muscles of his back, which she refused to do. “You compliment me, Lady Sif. I have neither the skill nor the knowledge to enact such a farce as we have been living. No, this great experience was bequeathed to us by none other than the Allfather himself.”

Sif shook her head. “No,” she said. “Odin Allfather would not spring you from prison for a merry jaunt about Midgard.”

“ _Merry jaunt_ and _Allfather_ are not words I would use in the same sentence,” Loki said, at last locating a suitable shirt. He took his sweet time sliding into it, leaving Sif’s mouth dry. She finally had to close her eyes, though his afterimage lingered inside her eyelids. Why couldn’t she have fallen for someone hideous?

“Do not lie to me, Trickster,” she said, at last opening her eyes when she deemed it safe. Loki’s look was so calculatedly bland she knew he was immensely pleased at her reaction. She scowled. “The Allfather would not let you wander free.”

“Tell me, Sif: what are my crimes? I am being punished simply for being a good king.”

She barked a bitter laugh. “Good king? You would bring about the ruin of Asgard and smile all the while!”

“I did nothing of the sort. I was a good king, Sif; under my reign, Thor was rehabilitated; Laufey, king of the Jotuns, was removed from this existence; and I discovered the treachery of Thor’s cronies, whose loyalty was so fleeting they turned their backs on Asgard as soon as the Allfather closed his eyes in the Odinsleep.”

“Our actions were steeped in a desire to do what was best for Asgard.”

“By betraying your Realm?”

“You betrayed us!”

“Enlighten me.”

“You sent the Destroyer after me,” she snapped, his calm demeanor only serving to making her angry.

“I had every right to do that,” Loki said. “I was king and you were in violation of a direct order. I would have been remiss in my responsibilities to not search out the traitors.”

“To attack your friends?” Sif cried, throwing her arms wide. “How was that ever going to end in anything other than disappointment and separation?”

Loki laughed coldly. “You just won’t admit that you were in the wrong. The mighty Lady Sif, the Realm’s favorite warrior, defier of class and expectations, always in the right and unfailingly loyal to the crown, suddenly finds herself on the opposite side of justice and won’t admit it.”

“Loyalty to the crown meant saving Thor.”

“I WAS THE KING!” Loki roared, his voice filling the small space. “Your sworn loyalty was to me, but at the first opportunity you went and searched out my _brother_ and then pretended it was done in the name of _Asgard_ , when Asgard specifically told you to do the opposite! Say what you want of me, Shieldmaiden, but this one is laid out at your feet.”

“You had Thor banished!”

“ _Odin_ had Thor banished, because of actions _Thor_ took due to his own impetuosity!”

“You could have brought Thor back.”

“And have my first act as king be to undermine Odin Allfather’s last? That is no way to build stability, Sif.”

Loki was back to being calm and cold, against which Sif’s heated passions held no sway. She could not argue Loki into agreeing with her, and with each passing moment her anger grew, ensuring failure should she try. She needed a calm head if she wished to spar verbally with Silvertongue himself, which she would never achieve while standing in front of him, already incensed.

What was it the Midgardians called needing a break? A time out? Very well, she would take one. “Stay,” she barked. “I’ll be back once I no longer feel the need to strangle you.”

“Yes, mistress,” Loki said, so deferentially, she momentarily saw red. With great effort she exited the store rather than try and lop his head off, breathing deeply once out in the fresh air. 

Setting a ground-eating pace, she made for the heart of town. She was going to find that asphalt truck and lay new road until she passed out from the effort.

*

Thor found her close to dinner time. She hadn’t found her desired truck, settling instead for clearing the debris of a once mighty house, moving faster than ever before as she gathered debris from the pile on the ground and tossed it into a dumpster. Sif got lost in the repetitive motions, feeding all of her anger and frustration into the labour until her mind was clear and her emotions calm. It allowed her to rationally think through the argument she’d been having with Loki, to consider it from both sides.

Thor didn’t ask her to stop, stepping up instead to assist in her efforts. Together they cleared the ground of all foreign materials, until the only sign that a trash heap had ever existed was the bent grass.

“I hate your brother,” she said suddenly.

“What has Loki done now?” Thor asked, voice neutral.

“He has committed the most unpardonable of sins,” Sif said, wiping her brow as she sat down. “Out of all his infractions, high and low, great and small, personal and indifferent, this is the worst: he is right.”

Thor nodded, understanding.

Tears suddenly spilled onto Sif’s cheeks, and she moved to wipe them. “I betrayed Asgard,” she said. “I swore to always uphold her king, and the moment Loki took the throne I did nothing but undermine him. He’s correct in his assertion of my betrayal. Had Odin not retaken the throne and rewritten history from his point of view, Loki would have had every legal right to force my traitorous skin to languish in prison.”

Thor spoke softly, placing a large hand on her shoulder. “I am grateful for your betrayal.”

“That’s the worst of it,” Sif said. “Were I to find myself in the same position again, I would follow the same course with no deviation.” She looked up at her friend, desperation pinching her face. “No wonder he fell from grace. Your mother is the only true support he’s ever had. With all of our focus turned towards you, and Odin Allfather’s every move intended to bring you glory and power, how could he feel aught but neglected? ‘Tis a wonder he did not fall sooner.”

“Sif,” Thor said firmly, “do not shoulder the blame for his actions. Loki was lost to us long before he had cause to banish me. He slowly pulled away from us, there in body but not in heart, and by the time we realized it, he’d already fallen from the Rainbow Bridge.”

“But would he have if we’d noticed?”

Thor shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It does not do to dwell of might-have-beens, for we cannot alter the past. All we can do is move forward.”

Sif gripped Thor’s hand on her should with her right hand, her left wiping away the tears on her cheeks. “What do I do? Arrest him or forgive him?”

Thor shook his head again. “I cannot and will not make your choices for you, but I do trust whatever you choose to be the best.”

Remembering how her heart fluttered at his shirtless state, Sif wasn’t sure she was qualified to pass judgment on Loki. “What will you do?” she asked instead. 

“That is between me and him.”

“So you don’t know, either.”

He sagged, an unusual look on the crown prince. “I don’t know what the right choice is. Should I call friend Stark and let the Midgardian authorities handle him? His crimes are against them, and clearly Asgard failed to properly punish him. Perhaps the mortals should be given a chance.”

“Terrible idea,” Sif said. “You’re just handing Loki an opportunity to oppress ants.”

Thor removed his hand from her shoulder, dropping to sit next to her. “Should I leave him to your judgment?”

“That would be rewarding his carnal side.” Thor shot her a look, then turned red. Sif smiled. “Years past I never would have thought you capable of blushing,” she said, nudging his shoulder with hers. “I think your mortal has been a good influence on you.”

“The best,” he said fondly, then added seriously, “has your chosen love been good for you?”

Sif wished with all her heart she could answer in the affirmative, but it would be a lie, which she would not speak. 

Thor’s hand found hers again, and they sat together as evening approached, the only sound the slowly dying symphony of cicadas.

**

It was full dark when Thor burst into the store, a no-doubt manly move some woman would appreciate, but Loki mostly found tiresome. He had yet to retire to bed, busy as he was working on Stud Finder’s ledgers, his workspace illuminated only by a battery powered lamp. “Someone will be right with you,” Loki said in a bored tone, continuing his work.

Thor was not to be put off, however, and in one sweeping move threw all of Loki’s hard work to the ground. Loki turned steely eyes on his oaf of a brother. “I understand working with the mind eludes you, but do not ruin my efforts,” he said coldly.

“What does it matter, brother?” Thor said. “You aren’t Midgardian, nor are you meant to languish in this store. Give up this farce and face your actual problems.”

With a flick of his fingers, Loki indicated the whole of the store. “This is my problem. As it is my livelihood, I need to keep it functional, so that should the day come when disaster relief is completed to an acceptable degree that individuals are ready to start rebuilding, they may come purchase my goods and wares. Being handed everything from birth, I understand if such considerations are beneath you, but the rest of us must work for our supper.”

“Do not act as if you weren’t raised with all the comforts of a palace,” Thor scoffed. “You know no more of hard labour than I.”

“You were always meant to be king, while I was never more than an inconvenience. If not labour, then what?”

“Between the two of us, who has actually managed to be king?”

“Mm, yes, even inadequately qualified as I am, I still managed to achieve your destiny. How that must sting.”

“What stings is watching Sif weep over you. You are not worthy to lick the dust off her boots.”

“On that, dear brother, we are agreed.” Loki calmly moved around the counter to retrieve his ledger and pen. A brief inspection found them to be none the worse for Thor’s unanticipated abuse, though the ledger did now sport a crease on its front page. It was a matter of small magic to smooth the page, its appearance once again pristine. 

“Loki,” Thor started, but Loki interrupted him.

“You’re still here?” he asked mildly. “Pardon my surprise; as you have no practical purpose, I assumed you long gone.”

“Loki,” Thor growled. It brought about a delightful tingle; Loki did so love being the source of irritation. 

“Thor,” he said smoothly, regretting the lack of ladies to appreciate the quality of his voice over Thor’s. 

“You are angry with me and I would have you tell me why.”

Loki looked at his brother, his eyebrows tilted in mild surprise. “I am not the one stomping into another’s space and growling demands. I believe it is _you_ who are angry.”

“I’m not angry with you!” Thor half shouted. Loki raised one brow.

“My mistake,” he said.

Thor growled. “Your calm demeanor is infuriating, brother. I know you feel deeply, so show something! Let an emotion cross your face or show in your voice! Yell at me. Yell about me--yell about how you feel I’ve stolen Sif from you.” Loki said nothing, staring evenly at his brother, watching the frustration on his face grow. “Say something!” Thor shouted.

“I have,” Loki replied simply. “My apologies if my responses were not to your liking.”

As expected, Thor’s irritation reached its peak and was demonstrated as he launched a powerful fist toward Loki’s face. Loki easily dodged, sending out multiple illusions of himself to surround Thor. His brother, never one to ascertain the correct position of his enemy before attacking, lashed out at the many Lokis standing before him. Loki shrouded his actual self in darkness and stepped back into the shadows, enjoying watching Thor make a fool of himself. Each swing of his fist dissipated a fake Loki until there were none left, leaving Thor’s face a thundercloud as he whirled about, looking for his brother.

Loki smiled. 

“Face me, coward!” Thor demanded, his voice booming in their enclosed store. 

“No,” Loki whispered, shooting forth a tendril of darkness resembling a storm cloud and wrapping it around Thor’s head. There was no substance to the spell, but the complete lack of light could be disorienting, and Thor, unused to battling without his sight, panicked and wasted precious seconds clawing at the illusion covering his eyes. Loki silently slipped toward his brother, a spare 2-by-4 in hand, and whacked Thor upside the head. His brother dropped with a most satisfying _thunk_. 

“I may not be king, but I know how to best one,” Loki hissed at his brother’s still body. “And Sif will not be stolen, and most certainly not by _you._ ” Loki spread his arms wide. “I may not be Odin’s chosen, but I am still his son, and I am just as worthy as you are. More, for I did not require banishment to ascend to the throne.” He kicked Thor for good measure, then strode off into the night. 


	9. Chapter 9

Sleep eluded Sif, her thoughts refusing to settle. Were she at home she’d spend a restless night tossing and turning in her bed, but she was lying on the floor of Jane Foster’s camper van and any movement she made jostled the vehicle, so she held herself still to prevent waking her hostess.

She expected Thor to return, but as the night dragged on and he did not come home, Sif began to worry. She knew he had left to face Loki. Thor preferred to use his fists to settle arguments, which worked with her or any of the Three, but Loki did not respond well to brute force. If Thor attacked his brother, she had no doubt wily Loki would reciprocate in kind. If Loki was impassioned, it would be an equal fight, but if Loki was calm, Thor could not hope to withstand Loki’s machinations. As the hours passed, she feared it had been the latter.

In the wee hours of the morning, Sif abandoned any hope of sleep and slipped out of the camper van intent on finding her princes. She took three steps before realizing Loki was sitting before the long dead fire, his gaze turned inward. He did not notice her. 

She ached to reach out and smooth his creased brow, but chose to keep her hands stilled at her sides. Whether or not he was deserving of compassion, he wasn’t deserving of hers.

“I see you,” Loki said, voice quiet.

“And I you,” she replied, moving to sit opposite him. “How fares Thor?”

“He’ll live,” Loki said, and she did not imagine the regret in his voice. 

“Loki,” she said sharply, “do not pretend disinterest in Thor’s wellbeing.”

“Who’s pretending?”

She stood back up. “When you are done lying, we will continue this conversation.” Striding away, Sif made it the length of two football fields before Loki caught up to her. 

“Of course I care,” he said irritably, “but that does not mean I must show it.”

“If you were half as honest with your emotions as you pretend to be, you would not suffer most of your problems.”

“So if I simply share my feelings, I wouldn’t have been adopted? Or Jotun? Fascinating theory, Sif.”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“You just told me to be honest with who I am. You can’t have it both ways.”

Sif stopped walking. It took Loki three footsteps to realize it before he turned around to face her. They said nothing, though they kept their eyes locked, staring intently at each other. Sif was strongly reminded of their moment in the throne room when Loki was king, though so much more seemed to be at stake now. 

“You are the only thing I want,” Loki spoke at last. “What must I do to keep you?”

“I don’t know,” Sif said softly. “I do know that I need space. I need time to sort through what has happened and to determine how I feel about it and what I want going forward.”

Loki bowed, for once without a hint of mockery, and it saddened her that his family were not the ones to witness his sincerity. “Keep Thor away from me, and I will give you all the time and space you need,” he said, his low voice raising gooseflesh on her arms. He raised his head enough to look at her through lowered lashes. “I will be at Stud Finder when you wish to see me.”

He disappeared in the darkness of the night. Sif felt bereft at his loss.

*

Days passed and Sif threw herself into her work. From sunup to sundown she went wherever the work was hardest, sweating through her labour long after the mortals retired from weariness. She did not attempt to hide her supernatural strength, advertising it enough to make sure she was always given the hardest tasks. Thor often accompanied her, though they spoke little. He was sore over his defeat at Loki’s hands and Sif did not know how to address the issue. 

Thor and Jane kindly welcomed her into their space, asking no questions about her need for new accommodations. Working all day left little time for conversation at night, and Sif fell asleep almost immediately upon returning to the camper van. Each morning, she made sure to be gone before dawn. 

On the fourth day of her self-imposed exile, Sif came across one of her Loki posters. His smoulder attracted her gaze as she looked fondly at his image, though it didn’t last long as she remembered how horrid he had behaved the day of the photo shoot. If she hadn’t kissed him, she doubted he ever would have cooperated. 

Reaching out, her fingers softly traced the lines of his mouth. Unfairly beautiful, Loki’s charms still sang a sweet siren song to her soul. If he arrived now and threw her a smoulder, she would not be able to withstand him.

Disgusted with herself, Sif searched out a home that not only needed reconstruction, but was dealing with a serious sump pump back up. Dirty work was all she felt worthy to do. 

She had to wash off in the ocean that night, knowing there wasn’t an available shower elsewhere, especially not at the magnitude she needed to remove the grime and waste covering her person. Washing in salt water left her feeling itchy for hours afterward, which she firmly believed she deserved, and another sleepless night was spent. 

In the morning, Sif was so tired she couldn’t contemplate another day of work without rest. She could not sleep the day away on Jane’s tiny floor, so making a snap decision, Sif went to Stud Finder. There may be a (former?) boyfriend there, but he also had a real bed. Walking in, Loki looked up from the counter where he was working, surprise and then hope in his eyes. Sif held up a forestalling hand. “Don’t talk to me,” she said, collapsing onto what was once their bed. It smelled like Loki.

She was asleep in seconds.

She awoke hours later to an empty store and a peanut butter sandwich sitting on the pillow next to her. Eating it, Sif felt better than she had in days. 

Looking around, she noticed that the only clutter left in the store was the mattresses. Everything else was neat, tidy, _and_ clean. She huffed in surprise; she didn’t know Loki had it in him. Moving to the office, she saw it had been thoroughly cleaned in there, as well. The office hadn’t been restored to rights, but everything was in clearly marked piles, with painter’s tape on the floor to indicate where furniture was to go once they had the means--or the transportation--to acquire replacement pieces. 

Her small pile of belongings were stacked in the far corner. How much those few items had meant to her before the storm! Now, aware of who she truly was, Sif no longer felt any attachment to her Midgardian possessions, but appreciated Loki’s apparent gentleness in handling them. 

Longing hit hard in her gut. She missed him, so much. 

She missed the quiet life they lived together in this store, without a proper home. She missed the ease with which he’d smiled at her and kissed her.

But more than that, she missed the ease of their friendship from decades long past. She missed the Loki who engaged with their band of friends, who didn’t shut her or Thor out. How long had it been since he’d felt content in the hallowed halls of Gladsheim? When did he fall away, and why hadn’t she noticed?

In that moment, Sif knew what she wanted.

She wanted Loki to come home.

**

Loki gave Sif her privacy by moving outdoors and sitting in a shady corner of the store. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Loki again wondered what sort of idiot settled in a place like Florida. Midgard was full of pleasantly temperate climes, and several delightfully icy ones--why settle in this hellhole? His Midgardian memories informed him that Florida was miserable year-round. 

He was certain Odin had sent them to this clime expressly to punish Loki. Mission accomplished, Allfather, Loki thought, too hot to be angry.

How long did Sif plan to sleep? It was his domain she’d invaded, and while he would give her anything she desired, he wanted to gift her the world from _inside_ his somewhat cooler building.

It occurred to Loki that a more fitting punishment for his crimes than languishing in prison would have been banishing him to a desert planet. He’d court reform like a favoured lover just to avoid the searing sun. Thank goodness Odin wasn’t that cruel.

When the sun was at its zenith, Sif at last exited Stud Finder. Loki didn’t pretend to wait an appropriate time for her to vacate the premises before rushing inside, heading straight for his battery-powered fan and stroking it softly, murmuring words of appreciation and contentment as its meager offering of fabricated wind helped cool Loki. 

The bell above the door dinged. “Unless you’re a giant ice cube, go away,” Loki said, though now he was picturing being encased in ice. Hadn’t that happened to one of Thor’s Midgardian allies? What a rapturous fate!

“Loki,” Sif’s steady voice said, and he whirled around to face her, making certain to not drop his precious fan. Her words faltered as she took him in, and suddenly Loki was hot for a different reason. He pulled his fan closer still. 

“Sif,” he replied, amused at how choppy his voice sounded as it travelled through the fan. 

The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, then depressed again. “I’ve had adequate time to ponder our future, and I’ve come to a decision.”

All amusement died, and he stayed silent. She didn’t sound happy.

“I love you,” she said, which was never a good way to start a conversation. What was it the mortals called it? A compliment sandwich? He wasn’t particularly interested in eating one of those. “I do,” she said, voice more firm, as if she didn’t think he believed her, “and I want the best for you, yet I cannot condone the actions that have led us here.”

Yes, definitely a compliment sandwich. Loki’s only question was how many insult ingredients she was going to add before closing with another compliment. 

“You cannot go unpunished. For whatever reason, the Allfather has seen fit to deposit us here, and I am convinced it must be part of your journey. 

“But punishment comes in different forms, Loki, and in this instance I take guidance from the mortals. In lieu of incarceration, I require community service, from your hands, in service of the mortals you denigrate.”

“Community service?” Loki asked, lowering the fan mid-phrase. “That’s it?”

“One hundred hours.”

“ _That’s_ it? I’ve already performed that in labour to Florida!”

“Per mortal killed as a result of your actions.”

That hushed Loki. He didn’t know the exact number, but recalling the number of buildings levelled during his siege, he was certain it wasn’t small. 

“In addition to your penance to the mortals, I require you to reconcile with Thor--in full, this time--and you must be completely honest with me in all areas.” She leaned in slightly, maintaining eye contact. “ _All_ areas,” she emphasized softly. “From this moment forward, if you _ever_ lie to me again, I will immediately cease all contact and you will have no hope of ever again attracting my attentions, romantically, politically, or socially. If I find you on the battlefield and my intervention would save your life, I will turn my back and leave you to your fate.”

Her potential abandonment of him did not bother him nearly as much as reconciling with Thor. They’d already attempted that during the hurricane, and couldn’t make it through to conclusion. Did she seriously expect him to go another round with his oaf of a brother? “Seriously?” he demanded. “Thor? Again? One sad attempt at communication isn’t enough for you?”

“That honestly bothers you more than--”

“Yes,” Loki interrupted. “Reconciling with my brother is unequivocally worse. Double my community service hours instead. Triple them.”

“You are a sad, bitter man.”

“Better bitter than emotionally vulnerable with Thor.”

Sif folded her arms, her gaze challenging. “Those are my conditions.”

Loki wanted desperately to refuse--prison, dismemberment, _anything_ was better than having a heart-to-heart with his brother--but the prize stalled his tongue. If he could withstand Thor sharing his _feelings_ , if Loki himself could withstand a bit of honesty (he shuddered at the thought), he was guaranteed Sif at the end. 

“If I agree to this, you swear you’ll be waiting for me at the end?”

“Loki, I think you mistake me. I will not be waiting for you; I will be by your side through it all.”

A wealth of emotion coursed through Loki as he processed her magnanimity in not leaving him alone. It gave him a strength he did not previously know he possessed, and in that moment Loki could single-handedly conquer empires and slay titans. 

“I concede to your demands, though I propose my community service be performed… elsewhere in the world.” Elsewhere being far, _far_ away from the Avengers. 

“Agreed,” Sif said, “so long as it is completed.”

Running the numbers through his head, Loki considered the amount of time he would be spending with Sif, alone, in a remote part of the earth. “Have you considered my community service might not be enough?” he asked, keeping all emotion out of his voice. “It is a large number of individuals felled at my hand. Perhaps my penance ought to be doubled or tripled to make proper amends.”

She looked at him through narrowed eyes. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Silvertongue,” she said.

“True repentance,” he replied, a half truth, not strictly forbidden under her ban on lies. 

She glanced at him askance, sure he had an ulterior motive but unable to find it. Loki kept his face and voice smooth. “It is something to think upon.”

“I will ponder it,” she promised, “but first, you must reconcile with your brother.”

“Would you look at that, it’s time for bed,” Loki announced, moving towards the mattresses. 

“The sun is still high in the sky,” Sif said flatly.

“So exhausted,” Loki yawned, falling onto a mattress and feigning sleep. 

“Tomorrow, then,” Sif said in exasperation, and crawled into bed with him. Setting aside his fan, Loki wrapped his arms around her, breathing in her smell. He had missed her.

*

Feigned sleep had soon turned into real sleep, exhausted as Loki was with the emotions of the recent days, meaning he was awake well before dawn. So, too, was Sif. At some point during the night she’d turned in his arms to face him, her dark eyes now meeting his. So much for pretending he slept still, or attempting to sneak away while she yet slept. Caught as he was by her gaze, he knew he’d be spending the day fighting with his brother.

Idly, he wondered if sparring until one of them bled out counted as reconciliation.

“Lucky for you, I doubt Thor has yet risen,” Sif said, her voice loud in the pre-dawn quiet. “You have some hours before you must face him.”

“And some idea of what we could do to pass the time,” Loki said, his brows doing the suggestion for him. 

“Breakfast?” she said brightly. “I’ve always found food a pleasurable way to pass the time.”

“Too much time with Volstagg,” Loki grumbled, following her out of bed. 

They made a quiet breakfast of whatever supplies were stacked behind the counter. Despite the effort Loki had put into restoring this store, he had no desire to run it for the rest of his life. The mundane lives of mortals and their constant need to fix shoddy construction disinterested him, and with Sif now promised to remain by his side, he saw no further use for the space. Were it up to him, they would leave immediately for colder climes where he could make good on his promise of penance. He sighed; he supposed this meant he must make an actual effort an reconciling with Thor so it would be over with quickly and he could move on, for he’d no doubt Sif would not let them leave until Thor verified their problems were at rest.

Loki very much did not look forward to this day.

When the sun was just over the horizon, Sif escorted him to Thor’s lodgings. It reminded Loki very much of being “escorted” to the dungeons. He wasn’t in chains and his mouth was not muzzled, but the atmosphere and sense of impending doom were the same. 

Honestly, he’d rather be returning to prison than squaring off against his brother. At least while in prison Thor visited but rarely, and Loki had the promised company of his mother to look forward to.

Fond thoughts of Frigga were Loki’s companion as they approached the box Thor currently called home. Loki may not miss Odin in the slightest, but he missed his mother terribly. At least, with the return of his memories, he knew she was alive. While he thought he was mortal, he’d been under the impression both of his parents were dead, and was quite happy to find that false. 

Loki sighed again; no doubt Frigga would be thrilled at his and Thor’s reconciliation. 

Then he would do it for her.

Thor and his mortal were still asleep, so Loki made himself comfortable on the grass in front of their mobile domicile while Sif went off to make herself useful. It took close to two hours before Thor emerged, and Loki wondered just what the man had been doing the previous night to sleep in so late.

The mortal followed a moment later. Ah. 

“Brother,” Thor said, surprise evident in his voice and still frame.

“I’ve been commanded to engage in a verbal spar with you,” Loki said, not moving from his comfortable position. “Sif calls it reconciliation, but I am not so deluded.”

To his everlasting surprise, Thor’s surprise vanished and was replaced with a wide smile and open face. “Truly?” he demanded. “For I want nothing more than to put this bit of nastiness behind us.”

Loki blinked twice, searching for any hint of falsehood and finding none. He forgot, quite often, just how jovial Thor could be when not faced with a conniving sibling trying to do him in. It suddenly occurred to Loki that much of their separation could be laid at his own feet.

Never one to admit to being wrong, Loki started with, “You were going to be a miserable king, and having you banished has thus far been my greatest achievement.”

Thor’s mortal ducked back inside the mobile box. “Getting straight to the point, I see,” Thor said. “Not your preferred mode of arguing.”

Loki shrugged. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner Sif will smile at me and let me kiss her again.”

Thor rolled his eyes. “So it is not reconciliation you seek, but the renewed affection of one who can court someone more worthy than you.”

“Well, yes.”

“Fine. I would not have been banished if you hadn’t brought an ancient threat into the heart of our home.”

“No, but your character would not have improved in the slightest. Odin--” Loki bit off the Allfather’s name like a bite of poison “--would have handed you the crown and the keys to the kingdom, and you would have laid waste to the beauty of Asgard within a fortnight.”

“You have such faith in me.”

“I was your constant companion for over a thousand years. I knew better than any how ill-suited you were to the task.”

“I could learn!”

“Don’t lie to me,” Loki scoffed.

“Silvertongue himself decrying falsehood? How grand is that!”

“You would have been a miserable king, and you know it!”

“I would still be a miserable king!” Thor shouted. Loki’s eyebrows shot up. He had not expected that admission. 

What brought it on?

The door to the small home on wheels opened and Thor’s mortal escaped, hurrying off in the same direction Sif had earlier traversed. Comprehension dawned. “You desire to remain with your mortal,” he said gleefully. “Oh, this is perfect. You’re about to become the family disgrace, ousting me as reigning champion. Do inform Odin when I am present, for I very much desire to witness your second fall from grace.”

Thor took a swing at Loki’s head, annoyance scrawled across his face. Loki ducked, but missed the follow-up swing from Thor’s other fist. Stars exploded across his vision, but even that could not remove his joy at Thor’s impending abdication. “Did it ever occur to you to be happy at my good fortune?” Thor demanded.

“Oh, I’m happy,” Loki said, gingerly touching his head. “Joyous. Ecstatic. Elated. Jubilant.”

“This is why no one likes you,” Thor said. “You can’t find joy in the things that matter, but you are gleeful over trouble. An ounce of honest feeling would do you a world of good.”

“This _is_ honest feeling,” Loki said, affronted. “I’m genuinely happy over you and your mortal.”

Thor shook his head. “No. You’re happy about the fallout.”

“I can be happy about both.”

“But you aren’t, and it shows.”

“Well, beg pardon that I enjoy watching my perfect brother show a flaw every now and again.”

Thor shook his head again. “I’m not perfect, Loki.”

“Father seems to think otherwise, as do Eir, the clowns you call friends, Sif, your mortal, and the entire populace of Asgard, not to mention the whole of Midgard.”

“You are blinded by jealousy--”

“Oh, yes, my words must be prompted by jealousy, for the second, _lesser_ prince can’t possibly have a valid point--”

“Would you just _listen_ for once in your life--”

“I always listen, it’s you who do not hear--”

And their argument got lost in the tangle of words spoken atop one another, both brothers shouting to be heard while neither listened. In the back of his mind, Loki was sure he’d find it amusing, but he was too busy outshouting his brother to care. 

At last their words petered out, the sudden silence uncomfortably loud. 

“If you want the kingship so badly, then it’s yours,” Thor said at last. 

Loki snorted. “Had it; didn’t go over so well.”

“It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

With startling clarity, Loki realized that it _wasn’t_ what he wanted, not what he wanted at all. Being king had merely been the vehicle to attain his heart’s desire. “No,” he said simply, and Thor looked startled.

Thor threw up his hands. “Then what do you want?”

Left to his own devices, Loki would never admit it out loud, but in light of promising Sif a true attempt at reconciliation, he swallowed his own pride and said quietly, “I want to be worthy.”

Thor’s face fell into a sea of emotion, leaving Loki feeling uncomfortably bare. Standing there, Loki couldn’t help but wonder if things might have been different if he’d made this admission at the start of all their troubles, or if events would have unfolded in exactly the same way despite emotional vulnerability.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, brother,” Thor said slowly, carefully, “but with your recent actions, you aren’t worthy. At all.”

It wasn’t nearly as devastating a blow as it would have been some months prior, for Loki had come to the same conclusion himself, but to hear it uttered from Thor’s lips--Thor, who despite being a fierce warrior, was a gentle soul who still somehow managed to love Loki--to hear such condemnation from him shredded the remainder of Loki’s will to reconcile. Without a word he pivoted and left. 

*

Sif found him back at Stud Finder, methodically sanding a bit of wood into nothing. Without a word, she placed her cheek atop his head and held him close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone tries to kill me, please remember that from Thor's point of view, Loki's most recent crime was slaughtering innocent Midgardians in the name of world domination.
> 
> And for the record, the internet tells me only 74 people died in Loki’s attack on New York, which seems stupidly low to me, but whatever. Combine that with the 80 people Black Widow said he killed before that (Germany + S.H.I.E.L.D. base), that makes 154 people dead because of him.


	10. Chapter 10

The sun had barely risen when Loki pounced on Sif. She groaned and pushed him off, but really, she should be grateful he waited for a reasonable hour. He could have woken her in the middle of the night. “I’ve been doing some research,” Loki said. “What about Nepal?”

“What?” Sif asked, voice heavy with sleep, eyes not quite open. 

“Nepal. It’s a lovely place to live, full of unfortunates we can offer assistance to. Lots of unwanted orphans who need a good home. Also lots of orphan trafficking, so we can do more good by reuniting children with families. Beautiful countryside, many mountains for climbing, including Everest. You could easily best the mortals by hiking to the top of that monstrosity without the aid of mortal tools. Forests are ripe for hunting, so you can keep your skills honed.”

“What do you mean, research?” she asked, eyes still closed. “We have no internet and no communication with the outside world.”

“I went there before you woke,” Loki said. “Found us a lovely little hut. We’ll take a new mattress, of course, but otherwise it’s no different than camping for weeks on end during a hunt.”

“Loki,” Sif said, wiping sleep from her eyes as she sat up. “What are you going on about?”

“Syria’s a good second choice,” he said. “It’s war-torn, so you would have plenty of opportunities to assist the helpless, and there are many orphans there, too, in need of care. All the bombings have devastated cities, so there would be adequate opportunities for reconstruction. The climate’s garbage, but we could look at it as further penance for my sins.”

“Loki, stop. We’re not going to Syria or Nepal or Budapest or Johannesburg or any other place. We’re staying in Florida.”

“No, we’re not,” he said, rolling off the mattress and moving to gather their supplies--the few that mattered, which upon closer inspection, amounted to a stack of peanut butter and a spare shirt or two. “You agreed I could do my community service elsewhere, far away from the people of New York,” he said, meaning the Avengers. “I’ve selected the other side of the world. The benefit of being a sorcerer is we don’t need to use commercial travel; I’ll simply whisk us there via magic. We can leave immediately and get started on making recompense.”

“Loki, stop,” Sif repeated, this time using her commander-of-troops voice. Loki halted where he stood, one jar of peanut butter in his hand. “We are not leaving.”

He turned to face her. “You said--”

“We are not leaving until things are right with Thor.” Loki glared at her, but she was not quelled, instead glaring right back. “You are not escaping from this difficult endeavor simply because you cannot magic this problem away,” she said firmly. “You slept off whatever incident occurred last night--”

“I did not sleep,” Loki interrupted.

“--And now you will continue making things right.”

“I’m fine cutting ties with the family,” Loki said. “We’re aren’t actually family anyway.”

Sif held up a stalling finger. “Do not,” she said fiercely. “Family is more than blood, and Thor, the Allfather, and the Allmother are your family.”

“Fine. When you and Heimdall build a loving familial relationship, I’ll reconsider Thor.”

“That’s different, Heimdall is--”

“More family than Thor is, so if family is important, take your own advice.”

“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “I will. But I can’t currently as I can’t connect with him. All my calls are unanswered, as I know Thor’s are. _Your_ brother, however, is here.” She gave him a meaningful stare. 

She was so lovely, it helped take the sting out of her demanding task. Slumping his shoulders, Loki temporarily relinquished his desire to relocate to the other side of the planet. He did not want to push her so far that she drew back and washed her hands of him, which meant he had another brutal fight ahead of him. 

Really, life would be so much better if his well-intentioned associates butted out.

“A kiss for the difficult task ahead?” he asked with doleful eyes. 

Sif buried herself beneath the blankets. “I don’t kiss hardened criminals who wake me before I desire to rise.”

Throwing the jar of peanut butter at her, Loki took pleasure in her yelp as it made contact. 

*

Thor was still in bed when Loki arrived, but this time Loki wasn’t wiling to wait for his brother to emerge. He magicked open the door, released a thunderous boom worthy of the god of thunder, and waited for his brother to angrily attack. Loki watched with amusement from some distance away as Thor attacked the illusion he had left. Would his brother ever not fall for that? 

“LOKI!” Thor roared after he dissipated the illusion, whipping around in a frenzied search. At last his eyes landed on Loki, and Loki flicked his fingers in greeting. Thor’s face went purple and he lunged.

Fist fighting was so archaic, but upon occasion it served a purpose. As the brothers exchanged blows, Loki reveled in the baseness of their interaction. Words had never been his brother’s strong suit, and Loki was not above speaking his brother’s language. 

Loki’s cooler head allowed him to initially take the upper hand, but Thor’s brute strength soon took over and Loki was thoroughly pummeled. Considering all they had gone through in the past few years, Loki felt every hit was justified. Did it count as self-flagellation if the punishment was administered through another? An interesting conundrum, he thought as he succumbed to another volley of blows. 

Before long Thor dropped him, breathing heavily and glaring fiercely. “There’s no joy in victory if your opponent does not fight back.”

Loki was certain a reply was merited, but he was having trouble breathing at the moment and found speech difficult. Sending a tendril of magic into his lungs, he reinflated them, knitting together a few ribs that had suffered the worst of Thor’s onslaught. Loki was no great hand at healing, and he was sure Eir would purse her lips in judgment over his meager attempts, but he didn’t need to be pretty (on the inside), just functional. 

Thor dropped heavily to the ground beside Loki, producing a small earthquake. It was no wonder mortals had labelled Asgardians gods. “I think I’ve won this round,” Thor said, propping himself up with his arms. 

“Indeed,” Loki said, when at last words could easily leave his lips. “Does this count as reconciliation?”

Thor snorted. “Hardly.”

It had been worth an attempt.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to die quietly,” Loki said.

“Not the first time,” Thor muttered.

Loki rolled his eyes. “Surely you aren’t still sore over that.”

Thor glared at him. “Sore that you all but committed suicide, letting go of the staff and forcing me to witness you fall to your grave?”

“You pinned me to the bridge with your hammer.”

“Not the same,” Thor retorted. “And I freed you in order to save the people and destroy my only hope of seeing Jane again.”

Loki waved a hand towards Jane’s mobile house. “Such a sacrifice,” he said dryly.

“As was yours,” Thor shot back.

Loki shrugged. “So we’re both bad at sacrifice. Given our esteemed father’s example, it’s not surprising, really.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What has he ever sacrificed, Thor? Ever? He is the Allfather. The Nine Realms are his to command. The closest he came to sacrificing anything was banishing you to Midgard, which he fully intended to rescind at the slightest indication you’d reformed.” Loki’s voice turned bitter. “He doesn’t know what it is to lose everything, to have a few simple words strip away the very foundation of his life. He doesn’t even know what it is to have Mother defy him, for she bows to his will in every circumstance.”

“Loki--”

“But I,” Loki pressed on, his voice swelling with memory, rage, and regret, “the moment I became king, my subjects, _my_ vassals, turned their backs on me and worked to undermine me, all to find favour with you. Sif herself chose, and it wasn’t her king she aligned herself with, putting the lie to her vow to work for the good of Asgard. No, she chose to follow you, who so blindly followed his own appetites you almost set us at war with Jotunheim. You, with no evidence that you’d reformed, commanded their loyalty so wholly they refused to see the man you had become.” Rising slightly off the ground, Loki turned the force of his anger towards his brother. “They betrayed their kingdom, and what was their reward? Reinstatement, feasts, _glory_. You were once again handed everything you never wanted, and I? I--” he cut off abruptly, remembering his own reward. He may have chosen his own fall, but the aftermath… Loki shuddered. Too soon. He would not speak of it. 

Collapsing back on the ground, he closed his eyes. “I have never experienced loyalty, and fully expect I never will.”

A moment passed before Thor responded, “Perhaps if you weren’t such an ass--”

That resulted in a brief scuffle that left both brothers lying on their backs, panting. 

“You’ve always had my loyalty,” Thor said softly, or as softly as his rumbling voice got, which meant one had to be fifty feet away before they couldn’t hear. 

“Don’t lie to me,” Loki intended to snap, but it came out closer to a wheeze. “You’re the one who imprisoned me.”

“You had just slaughtered dozens, perhaps hundreds of Midgardians!”

“I did not slay a single soul,” Loki said, offended.

“That man whose eye you stole? Those guards you downed with knives when you invaded the secret lair of Fury? The men at--”

“Perhaps I felled one or two,” Loki interrupted, annoyed that Thor knew all of that. Gossiping little Avengers. Loki should have ripped out their tongues.

“You must pay for your crimes, brother.”

“As you’ve paid for yours?”

“What crimes?” Thor cried. 

“What crimes? What crimes! Has your head been hit so many times you’ve forgotten? You, who marched into Jotunheim unprovoked--”

“ _You_ provoked me--”

“ _Un_ provoked, and the dozens of innocent villagers slain on your many quests--”

“Not innocent, they knew the risks--”

“The countless hunts you instigated after expressly being told to _back off_ \--”

“Beasts were meant to be hunted!”

“Not when the proprietors tell you to leave them be!”

“I’ve protected many a soul--”

“The carnage of your protection often left more innocents dead than the enemy--”

“Being a warrior comes with certain dangers--”

“Even now, you are defending your actions!” Loki burst out. “Even now, it does not occur to you to accept censure for your misdeeds. After all, Thor, the mighty son of Odin, heir to the throne, need not accept _consequences--_ ”

“Fine,” Thor interrupted. “Lay my crimes at my feet, as I lay yours at yours, and together we shall make recompense for our actions.”

“Separately,” Loki said immediately, for he would not be saddled with his oaf of a brother. 

“Agreed,” Thor said quickly, “and we shall both work off our debts, our work in proportion to our crimes.”

“Your mortal will be dead before you atone for your sins,” Loki said, mentally tallying up every misstep Thor had made in his near 1500 years. It was a lengthy list. 

“I will stay with Jane, and consider my penance my full time job.”

“An unemployed husband, every woman’s dream.” 

“It’s up there with Sif’s dream of marrying a felon.” 

Marriage. Now there was a dream Loki had not dared touch, and would continue to ignore, despite Thor dangling it so tantalizingly. Loki considered himself lucky Sif deigned to look at him; he could not fathom her shackling herself to him, not as things yet stood.

Someday, perhaps…

But that was neither here nor there. “Does _this_ count as reconciliation?” he asked again. 

Thor gave Loki a measured look. “Reconciliation does not happen all at once,” he said. “It will take time, brother. You inflicted much hurt.”

Loki was aware how long reconciliation could take, but had been hoping his brother was none the wiser. It was always a pity when Thor remembered he had a brain and chose to use it. “That goes for you, as well,” Loki said, rolling over and pushing himself up. He hesitated, then offered Thor a hand.

Thor took it.

“I do not understand what hurt I have inflicted, but I sorrow deeply over it,” Thor said. “You are my brother, Loki. You always have been.” He clapped Loki on the shoulder, nodded once, and moved to his mortal’s door. It was partially cracked, and Loki wondered how long the little scientist had been listening. 

He was surprised at the thread of longing he felt as he watched Thor retreat. 

*

At Stud Finder, Sif was nowhere to be found, so Loki followed the scent of noble do-gooder and found her helping a family rebuild their house. “ _Now_ can we go?” he demanded.

“I’m busy,” she hissed, straining as she single-handedly lifted the cinder block wall. 

Stepping up, Loki offered her a hand, and together they raised the wall. “Thor and I have made peace, if not exactly reconciliation,” he informed her. “More than that will take time, and I think it best for us to put distance between us for the time being.”

Moving back from the wall, Sif wiped a sheen of sweat off her brow. “There is much good to be done here yet,” she said, surveying their work while the family looked on in awe, the youngest child dancing around. “We should remain and offer assistance.”

“On this far-flung rock, there is good to be done everywhere,” Loki replied. “We can do just as much good on the other side of it. More, even, for the people who live there are more unfortunate yet.”

At last she turned to look at him. “This is more about you leaving Thor behind than doing good elsewhere, and that concerns me,” she said. 

Loki shrugged. “So be concerned in Nepal.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Fine, then compromise. We go to Nepal, and if after two weeks my actions still disturb you, we may return to Florida and you may revel in my attempts to make nice with my brother.”

“What if I want to go to Syria?”

“I know you, Sif, and you’d rather have a mountain to climb than a desert to sweep. Nepal.”

“Agreed,” she said, moving away from him. “But first we finish this house.” 

Surveying the scene, Loki wished his magic lent itself to more than illusions. He sighed; at least he could spend the day with his love. Rolling up his sleeve, he reached for a tool and set to work. 

*

Few preparations were needed for their move to the other side of the world. Sif packed up what little they were to take with them and prepared the mattress for departure, while Loki left a sticky note on the counter, bequeathing the store and all its contents to one Thor Odinson. It would hold up in court, he thought, signing his name with a flourish. Perhaps Thor would gift it to his mortal.

Briefly he wondered how they had come to own a store when their true parents lived still in the hallowed halls of Gladsheim, which led to wondering how they’d landed on Midgard in the first place. Making sure Sif was distracted, he softly called out for Heimdall. No response. Either the all-seeing guardian wasn’t listening, or Loki was doomed to walk this planet for some time yet. 

A problem for another day.

“Ready?” he asked Sif, holding his hand out to her. She took it, clasping his fingers in hers and sending a thrill up his arm. He would never tire of this woman.

“Ready,” she said, and with a blink of his eyes Loki moved them across the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My shortest chapter yet! Next up: Nepal. About three years are going to be squished into one chapter. :D


	11. Chapter 11

By the time two weeks had passed, Sif forgot her concern over Loki. Desperate to regain her favour, he threw himself into his community service. He was correct about the state of affairs here, and seemed to collect spare orphans every time he ventured out from their hut. By the end of the first week he talked her into building a larger hut to house the orphans. By the end of the fourth week, he, _on his own_ , built an addition to the hut and promptly populated it with orphans. From sunup to sun down, Loki worked tirelessly for the benefit of the children.

Sif had expected moping, depression, and constant pleas for intimacy in an attempt to avoid his penance. What she had not expected was for joy to shine constantly in Loki’s eyes. 

It brought her equal measures of pleasure and worry. Pleasure, for she lived to see Loki thriving. Pleasure, for she had not seen such life in him since… it had been so long, she could not remember when last she’d seen such life in him. Pleasure, for when he was happy, she was happy.

Worry that Loki’s joy existed in the absence of his family. Worry that he would not want to return to Asgard at the conclusion of his penance. Worry, for though the children thrived under his care, it wasn’t always enough, and three of the smallest ones tread the path toward death. 

Worry that she could have helped him earlier had she but looked for a way to remedy his distance. 

“You worry too much,” Loki whispered to her one night, smoothing the lines of concern from her face. He whispered so as not to disturb the sickly child sleeping fitfully between them. This one was not long for the world; she’d be surprised if the child lasted the night. 

“Why do you not heal her?” Sif whispered in return, relishing the feel of his fingertips on her skin.

Loki shook his head. “I tried,” he said, looking at the child with fondness, “but Binsa resisted. She is ready for her next life.”

“And this does not concern you?” Sif asked, wondering if she should worry for his apparent lack of care.

“I can’t save them all, Sif. Even Eir will tell you that in some cases, it is simply time. We gave her a good ending. Sometimes that is the best we can do.”

Tears flooded her eyes, grief intermixed with wonder at this compassionate Loki. This side of him was not born of Odin, but of Frigga. The Allmother would be proud. 

Sif lifted a finger to trace the shape of his nose. “She will have a funeral worthy of a warrior headed to Valhalla,” she promised him. Loki kissed her finger, smiling lightly.

Binsa did not make it to morning, and within a week the other two sickly children, Chaha and Imay, followed. Loki carved small headstones for all of them, arranging them in the hut’s front garden.

The rest of the children grew stronger every day, flourishing under Loki’s tender care. He recruited Sif to teach them swordplay, each child wielding a stick as their weapon. Sif did not go easy on them because of their youth, insisting on proper stance and form. It took months, but once they mastered parry and thrust, Loki stepped in to act as villain, taking far more hits than was proper, considering he could have dodged every attack. Sif scolded him soundly, but he just grinned at her.

Week 17 of living in Nepal, Sif heard the first child call Loki _baa_. It bothered her immensely, for he had not adopted these children, and he and she had active plans to return to Asgard.

“It’s not proper,” she told him that night, after all the little ones were asleep, dreaming of Loki’s bedtime illusions.

“What’s the harm?” Loki asked, pausing mid-shirt removal. 

“You, of all people, should understand,” she said, reaching over to tug his shirt the rest of the way off. 

“Their situation is different than mine,” Loki insisted. “They know they are not mine in blood, but mine in heart. I thought I was Odin’s in blood.”

“You’re Odin’s in heart,” Sif said, annoyed at his refusal to accept his father.

Loki snorted. “I do believe tossing me in the dungeons puts the lie to that claim.”

“I believe murdering innocent Midgardians landed you in the dungeons, not your father’s lack of affection.”

Loki shrugged. “I told them _aamaa_ wouldn’t approve, but not to let the disapproval of a dragon prevent them from expressing their feelings.”

“I am not their mother!”

“Aren’t you?” he said saucily, stealing a kiss before jumping into bed and pretending to slumber.

Crawling in next to him, Sif muttered, “There are seven children here, Loki. We are not adopting seven little ones.”

“Agreed,” Loki said, eyes closed. “You have to make an honest man of me first.”

Sif thumped him in the shoulder.

*

Three days later, Loki went into the nearby village for supplies and returned with three more orphans.

“By the Norns,” Sif swore when his smirking eyes met hers. “Are you trying to eat us out of house and home?”

Loki waved a dismissive hand. “As prince of the Realm, I have adequate funds,” he said. 

“We can’t even make contact with Heimdall, so do not dangle such lies in front of me.”

The seven orphans already living with them surrounded the new children, chattering excitedly and pointing at Loki and Sif while bandying about words like father and mother. Sif scowled. Loki approached her, the smallest child, Ehani, clinging to his leg. He did not seem to mind. Wrapping his arms around Sif, Loki leaned in close and said, “I know how it feels to be abandoned. How could I leave them to starve when I can offer the affection they so desperately crave?”

And so they now had ten children. 

*

Training children in the ways of the sword was at times easier and harder than training the Einherjar. Easier, because they were desperate for Sif’s approval and worked hard to correct every mistake. Harder, for they were undisciplined and lacked proper muscle mass to be of any use. 

Their eager but lacking efforts reminded Sif of adolescent Loki, and her heart melted. The love she refused to let herself feel for the children broke through her dam and nearly overwhelmed her. Odin’s beard. Now they _had_ to adopt the children. 

She was determined not to tell this to Loki, and so left to hike Mount Everest, hoping she would be able to control her outward expression of emotions enough that upon her return he would not notice anything amiss. 

All thoughts of children were pushed out of her mind when she began the hike, poorly dressed and ill-prepared by human standards. The humans, she knew, spent days acclimatising to the high altitude and poor oxygen, but Sif needed no time for that as her Asgardian physiology was superior to theirs. 

Because she did not need to rest like the mortals, she summited the mountain in one day. Once she passed the four mortal camps marking milestones and rest areas, it did not take long to come across the first body. Before long, Sif lost count of how many souls she encountered who had found their end on this the tallest of Midgardian mountains. It was sobering, witnessing the final resting place of so many who thought to seek glory here. 

Loki sought a similar end when he released his hold on Thor and fell from the Rainbow Bridge. It made Sif all the more grateful he survived his perilous fall and yet lived to annoy her. 

“Turn back, friend,” said a brightly colored marshmallow masquerading as a Midgardian. All the bright coats used by the mortals amused her; how out of place they would look back in Asgard! She ought to buy Loki one. He did so love to stand out. “You are not properly dressed.”

“Peace,” Sif said in return. “I am no mere mortal and do not fear the death offered here.” She lengthened her stride, quickly outpacing the man.

The cold started to seep in the higher Sif ascended, forcing her to zip closed her own marshmallow coat and don her hat. She missed her fur-lined cloak, the only warmth she needed when adventuring from Asgard. Even visiting Jotunheim just before Thor’s banishment hadn’t been cold enough to require that cloak, but she felt she could benefit from its use here. She wondered if Everest was truly that much colder, or if her time in Florida had heightened her sensitivity to the cold. 

The strength in her Asgardian legs brought her to the summit sooner than the other hikers, giving her a moment of peace at the top of the world. It was an incredible view; the day was clear, and she could see so far she witnessed the world curve. She wished Loki was here to witness the beauty with her.

Her secondary reason for climbing the mountain entered her mind, and in a clear, strong voice, Sif called out, “Heimdall!”

She felt the tiniest shift in the wind for the briefest of moments, and she frowned at the sky. “You _are_ watching us,” she accused the endless expanse of blue. “I do not know why you will not answer our calls, but we will have words, brother, when I return home.”

Sif swore she felt amusement all around her before the presence in the back of her mind was gone. Insufferable bilgesnipe. He was making Loki seem downright pleasant. 

That was unfair; Loki had been exceedingly pleasant since their removal to Nepal, so much so that Sif almost regretted their eventual need to return to Asgard. She had no complaints with his behavior, not one. She only wished Thor was present to witness his brother happy and content.

When another soul at last arrived at the summit, Sif bid him and the majesty of Midgard farewell and began her descent. It was a vigorous journey with many perilous paths; she enjoyed it immensely. Loki had (once again) been right to bring them to Nepal. The deserts of Syria could not compare with this.

She made a mental note to challenge her friends to a race to Everest’s summit when she returned to Asgard. It had been too long since they all had a quest simply for the fun of it. 

And it had been too long since she thought of her friends. What were the Three up to? Did they suspect something was amiss with the absence of Thor and Sif? Were they even aware Loki was no longer locked away? Or were they in on this scheme, whatever it may be? On the off-chance they had a watch-portal to keep an eye on her doings, she directed a rude gesture toward the sky. “For you, Fandral,” she said, then lowered her gesture and blew a kiss. 

She smirked the whole way down and on and off during the long journey home.

...Where she discovered Loki had found four more orphans. “This brings us to sixteen,” she said in exasperation as the children surrounded her. 

Loki shrugged. “Did you have a nice hike?” he asked, plucking a toddler from the circle and tossing the child into the air. 

“Do not drop him,” she warned, maternal instinct unexpectedly flaring.

“I would never drop our child,” Loki said, offense in his voice. 

“Because you know if you did, you would have me to contend with.”

The look he gave her said everything about her failing to refute the child as theirs. She looked back, her eyes saying all she could not voice. His eyes softened, then his face suddenly split into a wide grin. “Come, children, and let’s make dinner while Mummy rests from her journey.”

The children followed him to the large outdoor fire pit, all except the oldest boy, Kiran. At eleven, he had seen enough of the world before finding Loki (or Loki finding him; Sif was unsure how that worked) that he was not as easily entranced by Loki’s magic or outpouring of love. He much preferred Sif’s weapons classes, desperate to learn to defend himself. He carried his practice stick at his hip, the tip nearly touching the floor. Once he had learned enough to not accidentally spear himself, Sif intended to see a true weapon forged for him. He would reach that point within the year. 

“ _Aamaa_ ,” he addressed her, the word stiff in his mouth. He called her _mother_ because the other children did, thought he never sounded as if he meant it. It endeared Sif to him that much more. 

“Yes, Kiran?” she replied, moving to the smaller hut that still housed the bed she shared with Loki. 

“ _Baa_ said you left to touch the sky.” Sif smiled; it was a poetic description, the very thing Loki would say. She nodded. “I wish to go with you next time.”

She pulled up short, thinking of the bright marshmallow she met on the mountain. Everest was no place for a child. “You are not old enough,” she said. 

Disappointment clouded Kiran’s eyes, but his mouth set in determination. “When will I be old enough?”

Sif shook her head. “It’s not a matter of age, Kiran, but of ability. You must train long and hard to scale a mountain like Everest. It requires great skill and much equipment.”

He looked at her. “You have no equipment.”

“I am not mortal like you.”

He clearly did not understand her words, but did not ask for clarification. “Then help me get great skill.”

Sif eyed him, from dirty feet to messy hair. Thus far she’d only trained the children in the art of the sword to appease Loki and to keep herself occupied, but looking at the child… Possibilities danced in her mind. “You wish to be a warrior,” she said. “To prepare for the dance of war and to scale any obstacle that comes your way.”

He met her eyes, his dark ones flashing. “Please,” he said, though there was no supplication in the word. 

It was foolish and borderline treasonous to build an army of her own, but an army of one was not a threat to the Allfather (not that she would permit her tiny warrior to be a threat to Asgard). But it would provide a worthy ally on Midgard, one separate from Thor’s friends, and would allow for an alliance on the other side of the world. 

And even if the Allfather did not approve, his time was soon coming to an end. Though neither Thor nor Loki had said as much, she strongly suspected Thor would not accept the throne, meaning Loki would be the next king of Asgard. She did not mean to have a repeat of his last stint on the throne, and what better way to prove that than to offer him a strong force on Midgard, one comprised of his own children? 

Stepping forward, Sif clasped Kiran’s forearm. “We begin at dawn,” she said with due gravity. He nodded solemnly at her. Then, to remind Kiran he was still a child, and _her_ child, at that, Sif ruffled his hair. His lips quirked up slightly for a brief moment, then returned to a somber state. He was too serious by half. He had not asked for it, but Sif determined then that levity would also be part of his training. 

“Run help Loki with dinner,” she said, and he scampered off, his stick-sword thumping against his leg as he ran. 

An army of one, she mused as she took her things inside. What about an army of sixteen? The children were young, and none would be old enough or warrior-ready by the time Loki’s penance came to an end, but Sif could give them a good start. And who knew what the future held? She had certainly never predicted Loki’s treachery, nor Thor’s reform or his mortal, nor being memory-wiped and deposited on Midgard.

Anything was possible for her little ones.

**

Loki left just after sundown. It had been a year since their arrival in Nepal, and he had a promise to fulfill. 

He didn’t bother kissing Sif, knowing it would wake her. It was a rare night where she was asleep before midnight, and Loki did not think she slept nearly enough, consumed as she was with turning all of the children into warriors. It had annoyed Loki initially, once Sif became serious about training them, because he wanted just one child to take after him in the fine art of magic. A foolish hope, considering their Midgardian bodies weren’t capable of performing his style of magic, but a hope he harboured anyway. Really, it just meant he needed to talk Sif into bearing his natural child so he could teach it magic, and while he was confident she would be amenable to doing so, he also knew now was not the time to broach the subject. 

So now he left her to teach all their adopted children, knowing one day they’d birth another he could corrupt.

With one last fond look, he left. It was time to track down Thor.

He started in Florida, where he learned Thor had donated Stud Finder to the public. The inventory had been cleaned out and three families were living in the store, having converted it to temporary housing. Permanent, really, Loki thought, eyeing the new layout. Pleased their former store continued to serve a useful function, he signed a meme for one of the teenage girls, then left for New Mexico, where Thor had been during his banishment. Thor wasn’t there, either, but a quick search on the internet at the public library informed him Jane Foster was in London, furthering her research on Einstein-Rosen bridges. 

Once he was in the same city as his brother, it did not take long to search Thor out. He was in a small flat cluttered with papers, engaged in an arm-wrestling contest with a mortal, a scrawny little thing who would have struggled to hold his own against Thor even if Thor didn’t have Asgardian strength.

“Stop playing with your dinner,” Loki said, leaning against the door frame. 

“Brother!” Thor cried out, in his joy forgetting to restrain his strength. The strangled cry of pain issued by the mortal was very satisfying. “What brings you here?”

“I have been searching for you,” Loki replied. He made a show of peering about the apartment. “Is it safe to enter, or does all this clutter hide toxic waste?”

Thor, impervious to clutter, looked like he didn’t understand the question. “There’s no clutter here, just important scientific research,” Thor said. “Move it at your own risk.”

The mortal whimpered. 

“Brother, let me introduce you to Jane’s intern’s intern. He has a name, but Darcy doesn’t use it, so I don’t remember it.”

The intern squawked in greeting. Loki lifted his brows. “Charmed,” he drawled. To Thor, he said, “Tell me, how are you performing penance while arm-wrestling the weak?”

“Not weak,” the intern gasped out. Loki silently cast a spell to quell speech on the boy. 

“I volunteer with the homeless and the charity building projects, and I act as errand boy for Jane and her intern.”

“You act as errand boy for Jane’s errand boy?”

“Ian?” Thor said, putting the lie to not knowing the boy’s name. “No, he’s the intern’s intern. I help the _intern_. Darcy. Buxom girl, tased me once. You’d like her.”

Loki desperately wished to witness the mighty Thor act as mere errand boy. He wished to capture a permanent image and share it with Odin’s court. The satisfaction he would derive from that…

But he was not here to make record of Thor’s life. “And what are you doing right now?” Loki asked, arms crossed.

“It’s my day off,” Thor said. “Even a hero gets a day off now and then.”

The difference between a perceived hero and perceived villain: Thor took days off, while Loki had not taken one. It spoke to their individual work ethics, and he tried not to be bitter over it. 

“You lazy, indolent, loafing sloth,” Loki said. 

He didn’t try very hard.

Thor narrowed his eyes. “ _I’m_ lazy? And just how do you spend your days?”

“I labour from sunup to sundown for the benefit of the twenty-one orphans Sif and I have taken in,” Loki snapped. “We tend the animals, cook the meals, clean the huts, farm the land, and train with Sif. Just about the only thing we don’t do is make our own clothes.”

Thor stared at him for a moment, then howled with laughter. “Farm the land,” he crowed, clutching his stomach. “I’d give up my good sword to see that.”

“Hardly a sacrifice, as you don’t use the sword,” Loki said, annoyed. 

“And you, working with orphans,” Thor continued through his chuckles. “What, do you step on them all day long and pretend it’s dexterity training? Tell them if they were competent warriors, they’d learn how to avoid you?”

That was eerily close to some of the exercises Sif put the children through, but Loki wasn’t about to admit that. “I hug them and kiss them and sing them lullabies,” Loki said drily. 

“Sure, sure,” Thor said. “So what really brings you here?”

Sweeping into the room, Loki planted himself atop a stack of important-looking research. “It’s been one year, brother. Reconciliation takes time, so here I am to continue that quest.”

The humor evaporated from Thor’s face, being replaced with a fond look. Loki found it deeply unsettling. “You really do care,” he said.

Loki rolled his eyes. “Don’t get sentimental. I’m merely attempting to convince Sif that I’m doing my part.”

“And yet I don’t see Sif with you. How’s the old gal, anyway?”

“Well enough. She scaled a mountain, so she’s happy.”

Intern Ian started tapping Thor’s shoulder repeatedly, so Loki terminated his silencing spell. “--can’t speak,” Intern Ian said, then looked surprised at the sound of his own voice.

“You’re speaking just fine to me,” Thor said, then slid his eyes over to Loki. 

Loki held his hands up. “Don’t look at me; I’ve sworn off nefarious magic for the time being,” he lied. Thor, ever the idiot, did not question Loki’s words, instead suggesting to Intern Ian that he gargle with salt water. Loki hid a smile behind a cough. 

When Thor’s attention was his once more, Loki asked, “So what have you learned thus far from your penance?”

He expected a snide or snarky answer, which is how he would have responded, but Thor’s eyes became serious and his voice earnest. “We do not have poor on Asgard like they do here. There are people lacking basic necessities for survival, many of whom are in possession of addled brains, yet few reach out to help them. It does not bother many that there are individuals who could be functional in society, if they could but be fixed. Midgardian medicine and technology is not equal to that of Asgard, and they lack the resources to fix these individuals, so few try. It is troubling. 

“Jane is not native to this land, so she does not know the proper channels to reach their queen, if their ruler even cares about the least among them. Ian, who is native to the land, informs me that the queen does not hold the power I think she does, but his explanations about the prime minister are not related to religion, so I’m not certain he knows what he speaks of. 

“I tried recruiting local help, but no one seems to care.” Thor frowned. “There is much good to be done in this land; I could easily spend the remainder of my life working towards it.”

On some level, Loki knew Thor’s time on Midgard--his _first_ time--had done his character good, but being estranged and then being incarcerated, he hadn’t witnessed it. To see his brother thoughtfully consider the poor and weak and to speak passionately about their aid--it stirred something in Loki, and for the first time he did not consider his attempts to reform his brother a waste. 

It altered Loki’s response. Prepared to mock Thor’s shallow attempts at service, he now revised his prepared words and answered in the same tone Thor used. “Have you announced who you are?” he asked. “You have some influence on this rock as an Avenger. It would undoubtedly get you an audience with the power of the land.”

Thor’s frown deepened. “I have tried,” he said slowly, sliding his eyes to the intern, “yet no one besides Jane seems to comprehend who I am. They all know of Thor, and I have seen more than one young child walk around dressed as me, but they do not seem to connect it with me.”

That explained much--Loki had wondered why no one seemed to care about their identities in Florida. Much like he, Thor, and Sif had not known who they truly were, it seemed that neither did the populace at large. The spell covering their presence here was deeper and more extensive than Loki had realized, perhaps penetrating every soul on Midgard. That spoke of Frigga’s involvement, for while Odin was a skilled magician in his own right, he did not have the finesse or the reach of the Allmother.

Curious, though, that Jane still knew them. Were there other exceptions, or was she unique?

As much as the academic side of Loki wanted to know, the rest of him did not fancy discovering the answer, for it would surely lead to the Avengers, a group he most sincerely desired to never cross again. 

Thor turned the question on Loki, and to his surprise, Loki wanted to answer honestly. “There is much honour in caring for little ones who have been cast off,” Loki said, uncomfortably conscious that Odin had done just that for him. “They are all starving when I find them, many close to death. Several have since entered the sweet embrace of death, though their final moments were full of love as Sif and I cared for them.” Loki did not like speaking of the children they had lost. It produced an ache in his heart he wasn’t certain would ever go away. “Sif tells me I must stop collecting them, but I become mysteriously deaf when she says such things. A strange sickness unique to Nepal, but one I endure with grace.”

Thor snorted a laugh. Loki was unexpectedly proud of provoking the sound. “They lead such brief lives compared to ours, that I wonder if they’ll have a lasting effect on us, but I take pleasure in knowing I star in their tiny lives,” Loki said.

It was a cavalier way of saying he’d fallen in love with each and every child and would happily slaughter any who dared threaten them, but as he struggled to put this into words for Sif, there was no way in Hel he’d say it to Thor. 

“I have nieces and nephews,” Thor said happily. “When do I get to meet them?” 

“Never. You’re a terrible influence.”

“ _I’m_ a terrible influence? I didn’t murder 80 people in three days!”

“Says the man who single-handedly tried to start a war with Jotunheim.”

“Self-defense, brother.”

“As was cutting down the men trying to end my life.”

“Murder?” the little intern squeaked. Loki had almost forgotten him. “War?”

Loki flicked his fingers dismissively. “What’s a little murder between opposing forces?”

“Or battle,” Thor added. 

The intern did not look assured. 

“Well, this has been lovely,” Loki said, standing, “but I must return to my bed before Sif notices it empty. She’s surprisingly unforgiving if I’m not where I’m supposed to be.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Thor said.

Loki lifted one dark brow. “And I suppose your mortal will be thrilled to find me in her tiny home.”

“Goodbye, see you next year,” Thor said. 

With a smirk, Loki returned to Nepal--but not before he knocked over the finely curated stack of research he’d been sitting on.

*

Eighteen months into their Nepalese adventure, a set of parents arrived, claiming they wanted their children back. Loki crossed his arms and stared at them, stone-faced, while Kiran ran to retrieve Sif from wrestling with the youngest ones. The parents stared back, the mother equally stone-faced while the father wrung his hands. 

“What is this?” Sif asked, her braid disheveled. 

Loki did not answer. 

“Our two sons are here,” the woman said, nodding respectfully at Sif. “We were starving when they left, but my husband found work, and now we want our sons to come home.”

“Parents don’t toss children aside,” Loki said coldly, “and they certainly don’t get to retrieve them simply because things are _different_ now.”

“We heard good things about this orphanage and wanted to give our sons a better life,” the father said, nerves making his voice shake. “You gave it to them, and we’re grateful, but now it is time for them to come home.”

“No. Children aren’t possessions you can re-purchase from the second-hand store,” Loki said, voice colder still. 

“Loki,” Sif said, her tone indicating negotiating was possible. Loki rounded on her, cold fury in his eyes. 

“ _No._ ”

“Excuse us a moment,” Sif said to the parents. “Kiran, offer them tea.”

Even with her superior strength, Sif had a hard time dragging Loki to their hut. The grooves his boots created in the dirt brought him immense satisfaction. “We can’t say no to parents,” Sif said. “Sanani and Ujesh deserve another chance to be with their family.”

“Do they?” Loki demanded. “Are we even certain these two beggars _are_ their parents? And do we really know their situation has changed? Perhaps they’ve simply found a _profitable_ way to dispose of their children.”

“They aren’t slavers, Loki.”

“What evidence do you have to the contrary?”

She chewed her lip a moment. “Then what if I accompany them home and make sure they can take care of Sanani and Ujesh? Would you consider it then?” 

“No,” Loki said, striding out of the hut. Sif grabbed his elbow as he crossed the threshold, yanking him back in. 

“Do not walk out on me,” she hissed.

“Don’t offer my children to strangers,” he hissed back.

She flung an arm toward where they’d last seen the supposed parents. “If the boys can be offered a good life, we should let them return to their family.”

“We _are_ their family,” Loki snapped, “and _we_ are offering them a good life. Have any here gone hungry since arrival? Are we not teaching life skills? Is there not an overabundance of love? Do you honestly think Sanani and Ujesh will be better off out there?”

“Our time here is limited,” Sif said calmly. “We ought to find good homes for all of the children before we leave, and who better to place them with than their own family?”

Loki could hardly believe what he was hearing. “You want to _place_ our children elsewhere?”

“You think it would it be prudent to leave them here alone? Kiran’s only twelve, and he’s the oldest!” 

“Leave them? Sif, they’re coming with us.”

“To Asgard?” she laughed. “And how do you plan to smuggle twenty-four Midgardian children past Heimdall? Assuming, of course, we can even get access to the Bifrost.” 

Loki yanked his arm out of her grip, backing as far away from her as the tiny hut would allow. Softly, almost too softly, he said, “You would abandon our children?”

She glared at him. “Of course not,” she snapped. “I just said we should find them good homes.” 

“You would. You actually plan to leave them here, to _abandon_ our children. Or were you planning to be fancy about it, and dump them in the snows of Everest? After all, I hear the cold is a wonderful place to lose a child.”

“Loki,” she said, irritated. “Where is this coming from?” 

“We can’t just let any couple with a story of tears make off with _our_ little ones. Even I have more heart than that.”

She recoiled as if slapped before taking a deep breath and narrowing her eyes at him. “Loki. What has you truly riled?”

“My wife offering my children to the highest bidder!”

“I am not your wife.”

“Yes, and whose fault is that?”

“You’ve never proposed a handfasting or legal union, so right now I’d say it’s yours.”

“As if you would consent.”

“We are not arguing marriage, Loki, we are supposed to be discussing our boys.”

“Yes, _ours,_ Sif, _not theirs._ ”

“Do you not think we should at least ask the boys what it is they want? Perhaps reuniting with their parents is their heart’s desire!”

“Why would we ask them? When have children ever known what’s good for them? They don’t get a say, for they are staying _here_ , with parents who _take care of them._ ”

Sif stamped her foot. “And what do we know of their birth parents? We know so little about this world, and less about the life people are living here.”

“ _I_ know children are not bargaining chips. They are not to be tossed aside until it’s convenient. Yes, thank you for raising my child when I actively chose not to, but now that it eats, moves, and pisses on its own, suppose I’ll take it back now! Honestly, Sif!” 

“This is about you,” Sif said, eyes widening with realization. “Did your birth parents ask the Allmother and Allfather for your return?”

Not a chance. As poor an Asgardian as Loki was, he knew in his heart he’d be a worse Jotun, and was certain Laufey had known it, too. “Can you imagine if Odin and Frigga had handed me off to my natural parents?” he asked, holding back despairing laughter.

“So you could be raised with your people and not live a lie?” Sif frowned. “Would that really have been so bad? Is that not what started this whole madness in the first place?”

“Thor’s idiocy is what started this madness,” Loki scoffed.

“You mean your perceived inadequacy in the eyes of Odin.”

“Perceived,” Loki snorted. “There is recorded evidence supporting my claim.”

“Fine,” Sif said, “so Odin hates you. Would you not have liked a chance to know your birth parents?”

The thought of being returned to Jotunheim as a young boy to live out his life as a disappointment to his natural father instead of his adopted father did not bother Loki half so much as the thought of not being raised by Frigga. He and Odin may have their issues, but Loki loved his mother. She was often the only bright spot in his dismal memories of home. 

Thankfully, there was no need to dwell on what had not happened. “No,” he said rudely.

“Are you certain?” Sif asked. “Perhaps you would be happier if you were--”

“Am I not happy now?” he interrupted, increasing the volume of his voice. “I like it here. I like living with you and teaching our children the ways of the galaxy."

“Of course you’re happy _now_ , but I’m asking about all those years of misery you claim you suffered on Asgard. You could have avoided all of that if Jotunheim had reclaimed you-- _not_ that I’m saying it should have happened that way, Loki, for my life would be poorer without you in it--but what I’m saying is don’t we owe Sanani and Ujesh the choice?”

“Natural parents aren’t always sunshine and daisies, Sif.”

“I _know_ ,” she said, frustration once again rising , “but again, don’t we owe the boys the _choice_?”

“So you wish I’d had the choice? Would you like me better, dear Sif, as the son of Laufey?”

“Laufey? What does he have to do with the price of orphans on Midgard?”

“Ah-HAH. You ARE trying to sell them!” 

“I am not, you insufferable cretin, and I’m not invoking the name of our dead enemy! What has Laufey to do with any of this?”

“Because he is my father,” Loki roared, “so I have been cast off by not one, but _two_ kings of the Realms!”

Silence reigned as Sif stared at him, mouth open in surprise, and it suddenly occurred to Loki that she had not previously known he was the son of Laufey. How had that pertinent bit of information been omitted? 

“Odin’s eye, you slew your own parent,” Sif breathed at last.

“To save the other,” Loki said bitterly, “who did not appreciate the gesture and repaid me with death and despair.”

Sif dropped to the floor, not even aiming for the bed. “Oh, Loki,” she said, her voice heavy with compassion. Loki hated it. “I did not know.”

“Yes, that is obvious,” he said, a touch snidely, “but perhaps now you understand why I see no merit in returning children to parents who once cast them aside.”

She looked up at him, her dark eyes liquid. “You were the son of the king,” she said. “How could Laufey cast aside his own flesh and blood?”

“Apparently, I’m too small.”

She eyed him from head to toe, disagreement written across her face. Well. At least he had that going for him.

“Not all parents are as yours,” she said softly. “We must at least investigate. No, hear me, my love-- _I’ll_ investigate their claim, and you discover if the boys are even amenable to the offer. If they are truly the parents of Sanani and Ujesh, _and_ have the means to provide for the boys, _and_ the boys wish to return to their first home--then, and only then, will we allow it.”

He despised her sound reasoning, but could not rationally refute it, so he acquiesced.

And when two of their little ones left to be reunited with parents they’d thought long gone, Loki allowed Sif to hold him through the night while they both pretended he did not water her pillow with tears. 

**

Sif’s second venture to Everest coincided with the flu. Loki and Sif were immune, but most of the children came down sick. Sif had never cared for illness or healing, so she took three of the healthy older children--Kiran, Tika, and Chirasmi--and trekked to the tall Himalayan mountain, leaving Loki behind to care for the rest.

Having children with her, and Midgardian children at that, Sif did research this time and made proper preparations for the journey. With Loki’s magicked money (she did not ask where it originated or if it was even real), she booked passage with a tour company that would provide accommodations for the children while she hiked. Kiran looked severely put out when he learned he could not accompany her up the mountain, but detailed descriptions of the mountain hiking experience, supplemental oxygen, and death to those who were unprepared, curbed his enthusiasm as he realised he was not ready. The girls laughed at him, but he took it in good humour.

Sif did not tell their tour guide of her plans to hike the mountain, for she knew how it would look with her lack of permits and proper hiking gear, not to mention her intent to do it in a day, but there was no way to convince a mortal that her skills were far above and beyond theirs. 

In the dark well before sunup, Sif left the safety of Base Camp. “Do not do anything that will result in punishment,” she admonished the children as she dressed. “And tell no one where I am, for it will only cause a headache.”

“Yes, _aamaa_ ,” the children chorused dutifully. 

“I will keep my sisters safe,” Kiran boasted, reminding Sif very much of Thor.

“Maybe we’ll take care of you,” Chirasmi said, and the girls giggled. Their easy camaraderie reminded Sif of her friends, and she left with a smile.

Once again, hiking Mount Everest was a joy. Being active in nature brought her great joy, and Sif was satisfied with the effort. The summit was not as clear as her last journey, but being alone at the top of the world still brought peace. “Are you preparing for us?” Sif asked the sky, directing her words at her brother. She did not doubt that he heard. “We won't remain much longer in this world. When we return, there will be questions, and we expect answers.”

Satisfied that her message had been sent, Sif began her descent, arriving back at Base Camp as dark was falling to find her children sitting on their cots like felons under the watchful gaze of the tour guide. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Sif demanded of the man.

“Where have you been?” he asked.

“Summiting Everest,” Sif said truthfully.

The tour guide scoffed. “Of course,” he said, but as it was the truth, Sif would offer no other explanation. The tour guide quickly tired of her response and left the children in her care with a warning to not wander off again. 

"What did you do on the mountain, _amaa_?" Chirasmi asked. "Was it hard to reach the top?"

"I spoke to my brother," Sif said, pulling the girl close and undoing her messy braids. "Kiran, hand me the brush. Reaching the top was good exercise for me, but it is very difficult to do." She eyed her children sternly. "You are not to attempt it without years of practice."

"Yes, _amaa_ ," they chorused. 

"You have a brother?" Tika asked, her eyes sliding to Kiran. 

"Yes," Sif said. "He lives in the sky and keeps an eye on Loki and me, and annoyingly won't answer our calls."

"Just like Kiran," Tika said, and the girls giggled while he scowled. 

"Perhaps so," Sif said, "but we make efforts to speak to family even when they do not respond as we wish."

"Why?" Chirasmi asked. "Why can't we just forget them?"

"Because we love them," Sif said, thinking of her estranged brother. They did not have much of a relationship as he was consumed with keeping watch and she prioritised being the Realm's shieldmaiden over communicating with him. Her thoughts shifted to Loki and Thor. Perhaps Loki was right, and she ought to attempt a relationship with Heimdall when they returned to Asgard. "We love our family, and we never forget them or let them go," she said firmly, tying off the first of Chirasmi's braids and starting on the second. "Always remember that. Family first." The children nodded, and Sif turned the conversation to ask about their day; they happily chattered at her, sharing all they had done. Sif smiled as she listened, pleased with her little family--well, perhaps not so little, as Loki insisted on increasing it regularly.

Sif missed Loki and wished to return to him now, but being with the young ones and having to be mindful of their human bodies meant Sif could not leave the high altitude immediately, so they enjoyed the remainder of their vacation, appreciating the grandeur of nature and taking a break from daily training. Every minute spent with any of the children further convinced Sif that Loki was right, and they could not leave their young behind when they returned to Asgard. What a stir they would make in court when they returned! Thor should be grateful, for it would take the heat off him and his mortal love.

When at last they returned home, Loki greeted her with, “ _Thor eloped_.”

Sif stopped dead in her tracks. “ _What?_ ”

“Eloped _,_ ” Loki said again. 

“Did he send a message?”

“I visited him.”

“You left our children alone?” Sif demanded, horrified. They were attracting a crowd of little ones. 

“They were asleep,” Loki said. “No harm befell them.”

“They’re ill!”

“They’re healed! Will you focus on the matter at hand? Wed, Sif! _Wed_! To a mortal!” His eyes gleamed. “I do hope we are present when he informs Father.”

She was torn between being horrified that Thor eloped without the consent of the Allfather and being pleased that Loki claimed Odin as Father without flinching. Horror was winning. 

“Father?” Kiran said, clearly not meaning Loki. “We have a grandfather?”

“Oh, yes,” Loki said, a different sort of gleam in his eyes, “and won’t he be delighted to meet you.”

Perhaps they ought to introduce the hordes to the Warriors Three and Frigga first so the family would have a few allies. "Wed," Sif said, shaking her head. "Without any of us present. Perhaps our brood will not be a distraction after all." 

"I can't wait," Loki said. 

*

In the end, Loki completed his required community service much sooner than Sif initially expected, but considering he worked all day every day, she wasn’t surprised. At the end of their nearly three and a half years in Nepal, they had thirty-two children, a number far surpassing the amount of offspring Sif ever expected to have. Two had been her anticipated number, not sixteen times that, but she should have known better than to make plans when she decided to twine her life with Loki’s. 

On the day they were to leave Nepal for good, little Ehani met Sif in her bedroom and gave Sif a blindfold. “What’s this for?” Sif asked, promptly tying the scrap of fabric over her eyes. One obeyed when one’s five-year-old made such a request.

“Shh, it’s a secret,” the little girl said, barely containing her giggles.

Ehani led Sif out of the hut into the garden, where the amount of whispers meant the entire family was present. What was going on? The children were aware of the departure, and knew they were to accompany Loki and Sif, so this wasn’t a secret farewell party.

“When may I remove the blindfold?” Sif asked.

Strong masculine hands untied the knot at the back of her head; gooseflesh erupted where Loki’s hands trailed. “Now,” Loki said quietly, his voice sending a shiver down her back.

All thirty-two children were kneeling on one knee, each child wearing a garland of flowers. As one--though not perfectly synchronised, for despite Sif’s best efforts at training, the younger ones still struggled with timing--they raised their right hands and said, “Will you marry us?” 

Whirling around, Sif’s damp eyes met Loki’s shining ones. “Well?” he said softly. “The children need an answer.”

“Of course, my heart,” Sif said, surging up on her toes to capture Loki’s lips in a soft kiss. All around them the children cheered, and she smiled into the kiss. Drawing back, she asked, “Do we need the Allfather’s blessing?”

Loki shrugged, unable to contain his own smile. “Irrelevant. Both princes of the Realm give their blessing, and two princes are more than equal to one Allfather.”

“Far be it for me to question the scholar’s math,” she said, and kissed him again. 

A loud and inappropriate hoot drew her attention away from Loki and to Thor, who stood to the east with Jane Foster. “Thor!” Sif cried, happy to see her friend. “What brings you here?”

“I heard you bought the horse before the cart,” Thor said, his eyes taking in the children. “I came to meet the horses.”

“I thought we were meeting the in-laws,” Jane Foster said. 

“And so you are,” Loki said smoothly. “Jane Foster, Lady Sif.”

Jane Foster rolled her eyes. “We’ve already met.”

“And now it’s time to meet the parents,” Thor said, claiming Jane Foster’s hand. “Hold tight; you’re about to experience your first Einstein-Rosen Bridge, and it can be a bit windy.”

“How are we gaining entrance to Asgard?” Sif asked, turning back to Loki. “Heimdall’s never answered any of our calls.”

“Thor assures me he will,” Loki said, his thumbs tracing over Sif’s knuckles. She shivered again. “And if he doesn’t answer, I’ll teleport all of us home via one of my back channels. It will be...uncomfortable for Odin. I doubt he’ll wish to experience it.” Loki lifted his eyes skyward as if to receive confirmation from Heimdall. 

“Who wants to grab Uncle Thor’s hand?” Thor boomed, and was immediately mobbed by children. His ear-to-ear grin said he didn’t mind one bit.

“Do we need to hold hands?” Jane asked.

“No,” Sif replied, letting go of Loki’s hand so six children could fight over her fingers, “but the little ones might prefer it.”

Once the adults all had three or four of the younger children in hand, Thor called out, “Heimdall!” Immediately, the Rainbow Bridge came to meet them.

At long last, they were going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did so much Everest research for these two tiny scenes because it is a RABBIT HOLE of information, and I tell you what, 80% of it freaked me the hell out. Writing about Sif climbing that mountain is the closest I ever want to get to it. 
> 
> Regarding Everest: you can’t actually just walk up to the mountain and give it a go; you need to purchase a very expensive permit from the Nepalese or Chinese governments, and do a ton of preparation. The expedition takes weeks, if not months, for it is not just a matter of summiting the mountain, but also a serious effort to acclimatize to the high altitude. Go too fast, and the altitude sickness will make a summit bid impossible. Go too slow, and the human body will slowly fall apart as it suffers from oxygen deprivation.
> 
> I figured Sif, being Asgardian, didn’t know any of this, nor did she need the preparation a human would (considering Thor can BREATHE IN SPACE, I assume Sif can, too, so the supplemental oxygen most hikers need was not on her list). Plus, you know, Asgardian = superhuman.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has dropped a comment at any point during this story. I appreciate each and every one.

Upon arrival at Heimdall’s observatory, Sif released her children and slugged her brother. He grunted, the closest Heimdall came to admitting pain. Sif looked down her nose in satisfaction. 

“Is he the enemy we’re supposed to watch out for?” Tika asked, bringing her fists up for a fight. 

“Not this time, little Tika,” Heimdall said, his deep voice friendly. Tika’s eyes widened and she dropped her fists, unsure what to do about the strange man who knew her name. Sif hid a chuckle behind her hand, but Thor’s laugh echoed in the chamber.

Thor moved to gently clap Tika on the back. “Meet Heimdall, little one,” Thor said. “He knows everything, so mind your manners.”

“ _Most_ everything,” Loki amended, and Heimdall eyed him askance. 

“Why did you not answer our calls?” Sif asked.

“By command of the Allfather, I was not to bring you home until it was time,” he said, his eyes going distant. “More than that is not for me to say.”

“That was incredible,” Jane said, awe in every line on her face. “In a mere matter of seconds, the entirety of our matter and mass went from a stable position on Earth to--to wherever we are. I was concerned about the atmospheric resistance, but your Einstein-Rosen bridge cut through it like butter! No, not like butter--like air--like---I don’t even _know_ what like, because we don’t have an equivalent on Earth. It takes close to ten minutes for a rocket to leave Earth’s atmosphere, yet we were gone in _seconds_.” She gave Heimdall the sort of adoring, interested look that should probably concern Thor. “You and I are going to have _many_ long conversations.”

“She has a brain!” Loki said, delighted. “That’s a first for you, brother.”

“And you can circumvent the bridge entirely?” Jane asked, turning her focus to Loki. “The Einstein-Rosen bridge is already a marvel of modern science; how much studying did you have to do to find an alternate path that--”

“The Allfather is waiting,” Heimdall interrupted, pointing toward the heart of the palace. 

“We’re going to meet the king!” Jane said with the tiniest jump of excitement. She clearly was unaware of what lay ahead of them, for she was too excited by half. Sif shared a look with Loki; this was not going to be a pleasant exchange.

“Lead the way,” Loki said to Thor, bowing mockingly. Thor did not hesitate, striding forward with the expectation that they would follow. They did, though Sif had to prod several of the children forward, busy as they were gawping at the grandeur of Asgard. Only the promise of a tour later could convince them to move.

Thor and Jane led the processional, Thor embracing the mantle of prince with every footstep. Sif wondered if he was even conscious of it, or if leadership and ownership came naturally. Jane did not seem to notice, busy as she was commenting on everything and prattling Midgardian science that was only half correct.

Loki moved next to Sif, slipping his fingers into hers. His over-tight grip belied the languor with which he walked, the pressure of his fingers the only outward sign of his nerves. “I should have wed you on Earth,” he murmured, “so Odin could not prevent our union.”

“He can’t prevent it,” Sif murmured back. “I choose you and no other.” Her loyalty to the crown was absolute, except in matters of the heart. Odin could toss Loki back in the dungeons and she would not refute the choice, only defying him long enough to procure a legal joining. She would patiently await her beloved’s release, and if it was not to occur, would wait long enough for the children to grow old before petitioning to join Loki in his cell.

What a stir that would make. She almost wished it would happen just to see the look on Odin’s face.

The heart of the palace was mostly empty when they made entrance, populated only by Odin, Frigga, and the Warriors Three. Sif smiled at her friends, her eyes drinking in their dear faces. Fandral winked at her, his eyes dipping to see her hand clasped with Loki’s. He made a kissy face, and Sif stilled her face to prevent a smile. She was a bit surprised no one else was present, having expected the whole of Asgard to be in attendance for the spectacle, but was grateful for the relative privacy. 

“What is this?” Odin asked when the party was halted, his powerful voice booming in the echoing chamber. “Heimdall informed me my sons were ready to return home, but made no mention of mortals or children.” Disgust laced those final words, and Jane’s shoulders went stiff. 

“Father,” Thor said, lowering himself to one knee with his arm clasped across his chest. Jane twitched as if to curtsy, only to decide it was a wasted effort. “I bring you Jane Foster, my--”

“I know who she is,” Odin interrupted, his voice sounding more austere with every word. 

“You told your father about me?” Jane whispered, the words echoing far louder than the woman had intended. Clearly Thor had not informed her that this room was built specifically for the giving of speeches, where even sound as lowly as a whisper was greatly amplified. 

“Mortals are not welcome here,” Odin said, his voice borderline thunderous. 

“Then we will take our leave of you,” Thor said, standing up, “for where Jane is not welcome, I am not welcome.”

“Wait,” Frigga said, taking a tiny step forward, the closest she ever came to defying the Allfather. “Wait, my son.” She turned to the Allfather. “We would not alienate our newly returned son and his blushing bride, would we?” 

The silence that followed was deafening, enough that Sif wished to clap her hands over her ears in attempt to block it out. Loki, however, was grinning with glee. “Three, two, one,” he whispered.

“WHAT!” Odin roared, the sound made worse for replacing the silence. Several of the children did cover their ears.

“Loki has thirty-two children,” Thor said hastily, and Loki’s grin dropped. 

“Coward,” he hissed at his brother’s back. Thor shrugged unrepentantly.

“ _WHAT_!” Odin roared again, this word even less of a question than the first had been. For the first time since remembering who she was, Sif felt fear. The power and might of the Allfather was great.

On the dais, the Three were clearly having the opposite reaction. Sif could see Fandral’s face turn red with exertion as he attempted to curtail his laughter. Even Volstagg looked jolly. Hogun, as ever, was nearly impossible to read, especially as a distance. 

“You sent our sons to Midgard with their true loves, my dear,” Frigga said gently, laying a hand on Odin’s shoulder. “What did you think would happen?”

“Their _what_?” Odin hissed, his words much quieter but no less deadly. Their what, indeed. How had Frigga known how Loki felt about Sif, she herself had not been entirely certain?

“It’s true, Father,” Thor said, brave once more. “I love Jane, so we were wed on Midgard.”

“Asgard does not recognize Midgardian law,” Odin thundered. “Your marriage is null and void.”

“That’s very pompous of you,” Jane spoke up, “not to mention insulting.”

“Silence, girl,” Odin said. 

“Don’t you shush me,” Jane said, and Sif admired her bravery in the face of an angry Allfather. “And don’t you disrespect the laws of my land.”

“Asgard holds dominion over Midgard,” Odin said, “so--”

“So you consider yourself our liege lord? Then tell me, o great one, where were you when aliens invaded Earth? Because I don’t recall Asgard offering help in battle _or_ during reconstruction, which would have been especially fitting as _your son_ \--” she jabbed her thumb toward Loki, who bared his teeth at her “--was the cause of the battle, damage, and destruction. As far as I’m concerned, even if you could make a claim that we’re somehow subject to you, your refusal to see to your people invalidates your role as ruler, and we the people of earth declare our independence. So stuff it, old man.”

Kiran clapped, the tiny sound the only noise as everyone waited with bated breath for Odin’s response. Sif wasn’t certain she agreed with Jane, but she was impressed with the mortal’s pluck. Thor had chosen well. 

“Mm,” Odin said, eyes sliding to Loki.

“That’s it?” Loki said, no longer whispering. “Thor weds a mortal against your will, she has the audacity to speak up against you in your own home, and all you say is _mm_?” He shot an mild glare at Thor. “I may be younger, but he babies you.”

Sif’s attempt to stifle her laugh came out as a snort, while Thor grinned and Jane’s expression hovered between offense and uncertainty. Odin’s face darkened.

“Thor is not a hardened criminal,” the Allfather said. “You are. Tell me, Loki: how have you come to hold the hand of the Realm’s only shieldmaiden?”

“Quite simple, really,” Loki said. “I took it, and she did not pull away.”

This time Fandral was unsuccessful at stifling his laughter, earning him a direct glare from the Allfather. It did little to curb his enthusiasm, though he did manage to quiet himself. 

“And have you, too, wed without the blessing of the throne?”

Sif could sense the lie about to unfurl from Loki’s tongue, so she spoke up. “Net yet, sire,” she said, going down on one knee. It was less graceful than usual for Loki did not immediately release her hand, and she stumbled. “We are but recently betrothed, though we wish to seal our union immediately.”

Odin shot an accusing glance toward Frigga. “You anticipated this.”

“Yes,” the Allmother said simply.

Odin shook his head. “You knew I misunderstood, yet you said nothing. Loki did not get his love of lies from his true nature, but inherited it from you, I think.”

Frigga smiled softly, but said nothing. Out of the corner of her eye, Sif saw Loki swell with pride. 

Odin abruptly turned back to Sif and Loki. “Your brother and your lady love show proper obeisance, yet you remind erect,” he directed at Loki. “Have you lost all respect for the throne?”

“I do believe it was you who once told me an attack from the enemy was preferable to a bow from a prisoner,” Loki said languidly. “I merely follow the advice of my father.”

“Insolent, impertinent, impudent, cheeky, ill-mannered boy,” Odin thundered. Loki’s smirk only grew. 

“Tell me, Father: am I to return to the dungeons? For if so, I see no point in delaying the inevitable,” Loki said. Sif winced. 

“What is the meaning of this rabble?” Odin said instead, gesturing at the many children. Terror was written on many of their faces, but they all stood erect, facing Odin. Sif was proud of them. Standing up, she moved to take the hand of Ehani. 

“Grandchildren,” Loki said grandly, taking all thirty-two children in with a sweeping gesture. “Sif and I have been rather busy, you see.”

There were several poorly stifled laughs this time, though nary a face betrayed amusement. 

“Grandchildren?” Odin asked strangely, eyeing the little mortals. 

“Thirty-two grandchildren, to be precise,” Loki said. “All adopted, of course, but given the family history of doing so, we did not think you would mind.”

“I don’t,” Frigga said, leaving the dais to approach her grandchildren. “Little ones, come to me.” Her open arms and warm smile convinced the children she could be trusted, and immediately Frigga was swarmed. Sif blinked back the sudden rush of tears in her eyes.

“Mortal grandchildren?” Odin said, all heat gone from his voice. “What am I to do with such a thing?”

“Cherish them,” Sif answered. “Love them. Honour them.” And tell them no lies about their origins, she added silently. 

“It can be arranged,” Odin said with no hesitation. Loki’s shoulders lowered slightly as he reclaimed Sif’s hand; she could feel the tension drain out of him. Worry for their children had been far higher on his list of priorities than had his own safety. Sif clutched his hand tightly; she was deeply proud of him.

The formal proceedings were interrupted as Frigga welcomed each child into the palace, and even Odin ventured forth to meet several of the braver ones. The Three relaxed their formal poses and approached, embracing Sif and thumping Thor on the back.

“Palace life has been so boring without you lot here,” Fandral complained. “No unexpected invading foes, no royal family squabbles, no mischief. Please promise you’ll never leave again.”

“I quite liked the peace,” Volstagg said. “More time for my family and enjoying the feastly delights Asgard has to offer.”

“It had been nice returning to Vanaheim so often,” Hogun admitted. 

Fandral moved to place his arms on Sif’s shoulders. “Tell me, Siffy, did you miss us? Did you miss me most desperately?” He pretended he was going to kiss her, which Sif easily ducked.

“I didn’t even remember you at the start,” she said, “and by the time I did, I was a bit preoccupied with navigating the treacherous waters of the Odinson brothers and their feelings--not to mention rebuilding after a natural disaster.”

Fandral pouted. “Sounds like you had more adventures than we did,” he said.

“I did,” she said. “In fact, I found a mountain that would make an excellent racetrack for us.”

“Capital!” Fandral said. “It’s been ages since we had a good race.”

Volstagg patted his tummy, which had increased in girth since last they met. “I’ll need to do a bit of training before I join,” he said, a merry twinkle in his eye. 

“Don’t let Hogun join,” Fandral said, eyeing their other friend. “We need a fair competition.”

“But seeing you lose gives me great joy,” Hogun said, to which Fandral stuck out his tongue. 

“Tell me, Sif,” Volstagg said, “how did you and Loki come to be? Last we saw him, he was in chains, being escorted to the dungeons for crimes against Midgard and Asgard alike. Now you two hold hands and have bred an entire army?” Fandral and Hogun also clamored their interest in the tale, until Sif had to shout over them to be heard.

“I will tell you all,” she said, “but not here.”

“Not a tale suitable for mummy?” Fandral asked, pointing at Frigga.

“Any may listen,” Sif said, “for it is a grand tale, but one best told around a feast with free flowing ale.”

“That’s my girl,” Volstagg said, grabbing her in a headlock, which Sif quickly escaped from. Several of the children looked on with wide eyes, so Sif set about introducing her friends to her children.

Ten minutes into the grandchildren meet and greet, Loki started getting antsy. He began with tapping his foot impatiently, then took to pacing around the children. Sif kept an eye on him, concerned he might do something stupid. He at least had the good sense to wait until Frigga met every last child before he interrupted the proceedings with a loud burst. “Why?” he demanded, so loudly every eye turned to him.

“Why, what, brother?” Thor asked, and Loki curled his lip.

“Why were we sent to Midgard without our memories?”

Sif set the youngest, Chaarumathi, on the floor and slowly stood. Thor moved to stand next to Loki, while Jane stayed sitting on the ground, two children in her lap. Sif joined the brothers.

Odin had been speaking with Kiran, serious expressions on both their faces. Now Odin rose, Frigga moving to his side. They shared a look, and Frigga nodded. “They are ready,” she said.

“I agree,” Odin said. “They have performed most admirably and passed with flying colours.”

“We what, now?” Loki demanded. “Was all this some sort of _test_?”

“And we both passed!” Thor said jovially.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Fandral said unhelpfully.

Odin stood imperiously, waiting for silence. Sif shot Loki a look; she, for one, wanted to know what the test was for and would not let his smart mouth get in the way. Loki sniffed in her direction, but thankfully kept his peace. 

“My reign will soon end,” Odin said as if discussing the weather and not announcing his impending death. “Once it does, Asgard will face a terror unlike any she has known, the likes of which she cannot face with a house divided, or it will mark the end of the Realm. 

“You were not ready to face that end. Thor, though your banishment helped right many of the wrongs we allowed to fester, you were distracted, focused on your lost love and feeling betrayed by your brother. A king cannot split his focus if he is to properly lead his people. Your house must be in order before you can lead them into battle.”

“And Father is such a great example of a unified house,” Loki murmured, too low for any but Sif to hear. She tapped his foot with hers, hard enough to let him know it would have been a proper kick if she wasn’t avoiding attracting the Allfather’s attention.

“And you, Loki, held neither love nor loyalty for this Realm you once loved. Locked away, rotting in the dungeons, I doubted you would lift a finger to aid your fellow man. Asgard cannot face what is coming without both of her princes at the helm, and you, even more so than Thor, were not ready to face what was coming, what is still coming.”

“Father,” Thor said slowly. “Are you…? Do you speak of…” he hesitated a moment, then slowly said, “Ragnarok?”

“I do,” Odin announced, his words heavy. Ragnarok. Long foretold but never anticipated in their lifetimes, it spoke of the ruin of Asgard and all she held dear. Even with the princes united, Sif was uncertain if they could survive the onslaught. She shivered. “Desperate times call for unusual measures," Odin continued, "so I wiped your memories and sent you to Midgard in the hopes that, unburdened by the knowledge of your sins, you would find a way to reconcile.”

It explained much about their time in Florida, from their interpersonal relationships to the conversations they had reconciling their pasts. Sif remembered her conversation with Loki in the elevator, how much of it was true even if the details had been technically incorrect. She doubted they could have had such a frank conversation if they both remembered the truth of their past and Loki’s choices. Odin had been wise indeed to take that from them.

“So you sent Sif to mediate between us,” Thor said thoughtfully. “A wise choice.”

“No, I sent Sif so she could win your love and secure her place as queen,” Odin said. “That…” he gestured at Sif and Loki, “that I did not foresee.”

“Mother did,” Loki said. Frigga inclined her head slightly. Loki sighed. “I knew you knew how I felt about her.”

“A mother knows much, but it is not for me to speak of that which my son has yet to confess.”

Hogun spoke up. “That was quite a gamble, sending them off without their memories and entrusting the princes to resolve their differences. What would you have done had it failed?”

“We would not have been any worse off than we already were,” Odin answered. “That is what made it a gamble worth taking.”

“But when we started to remember, why did no one answer our calls?” Sif asked. “I felt abandoned, cast aside. Could you not have told us then?”

“No,” Heimdall said, drawing everyone’s attention to where he had been hiding in the shadows. He stepped forward into a shaft of light, his golden eyes glittering. “You came to a knowledge of your past much sooner than anticipated because of the interference of Jane Foster.” He nodded at her. “You were not yet ready to return, so it was prudent to keep you in the dark.”

“All-knowing bugger,” Loki grumbled. Sif was inclined to agree.

“What was the milestone we needed to pass to mark us ready to return?” Thor asked.

Heimdall inclined his head toward the princes. “You needed a calm heart, my prince, no longer torn between Jane Foster and Asgard. Your marriage marked your readiness. The younger prince needed to atone, and he needed a change of heart. Once community service was declared his means of repentance, he needed to complete his service before being granted leave to return, during which time I believe his heart was healed enough.”

“You might have warned me about the tryst between my son and shieldmaiden,” Odin said. “Or the marriage between my other son and his _mortal._ ”

“And ruin blossoming romances? I think not,” Heimdall replied, and Sif felt a surge of affection toward him.

“The dangers of allowing someone else to watch your pet project,” Odin muttered. “We need to have a lengthy conversation about what constitutes loyalty.”

“I think he showed remarkable loyalty to the next Allfather,” Thor said. “With you nearly on your deathbed, Father, it’s about time Heimdall practiced being loyal to Loki.”

“Loki!” Odin spluttered. Sif chanced a glance at Loki, his face a mask of passivity. Was he hiding turmoil, or had he and Thor already spoken about the matter?

“Unless you have another secret son lying about somewhere?” Thor asked, pretending to peek around corners. Odin looked surprisingly uncomfortable. “Because I won’t be sitting on that throne, which means it must pass to him.”

Movement in the corner of her eye drew her attention, and Sif saw money passing between Volstagg and Fandral. She rolled her eyes; of course they would bet on this. Fandral winked at her. Hogun in turn rolled his eyes, and Sif shared a longsuffering look with him.

“Who said I want the throne?” Loki asked.

“You getting me banished so you could sit upon it is a fairly solid declaration of intent,” Thor said. 

“It was a declaration that you were an idiot and I would be a better ruler than you.”

“Precisely!” 

“Irrelevant, for I am not yet departed,” Odin interrupted. “There is time, though not much, for future discussion.”

Discussion began anyway, with all the men taking part as they vocally declared support for Thor or Loki. Sif said nothing, watching her beloved’s face as his worthiness was bandied about. Though he joined the conversation, he said little, for once listening as others spoke. Sif felt a sliver of pride; before their Midgardian adventure, Loki would not have stood still long enough to hear another’s opinion. Now he gave merit to the words spoken by those present, even if the twitch near his eye indicated he thought the lot of them morons. Sif smiled; at least some things never changed. 

Whether or not Loki became king mattered not, for it was the man he had become that Sif admired. He had started reconciliation with his brother at her behest, but it was on his own and without external prodding that he continued meeting Thor during their stay in Nepal. Loki listened with intent instead of with malice, and though she could still see the wheels turning in his head, she knew he was making plans for the benefit of Asgard instead of the detriment of its royal family. He still did not suffer fools, but he was unendingly patient with their children, teaching them everything he had to offer and willing to correct any number of mistakes. 

Sif herself was not unaltered. She, too, had learned to listen, to hear what was being said as well as what was not being said. And she had discovered that she cared enough about Loki to help him through life’s trials. Once she fancied herself willing to abandon a hopeless cause, but now she thought that so long as the cause was worthy, she would see it through to its end.

And Loki was infinitely worthy. 

Yes, whether he ended as king of Asgard or merely became her husband, Sif was proud of the man he’d become and the life they’d forged together.

The Allmother interrupted a heated argument on which brother was better at barking orders. “Let’s table this discussion until later, and prepare now for the feast.”

“What feast?” Odin grumbled.

“The one we are throwing for the safe return of our sons,” Frigga said. “It shall double as a wedding feast for Thor and Jane.” Jane’s declarations that such measures were unnecessary went unheeded, and in short order a grand feast was ordered. All parties present left to dress for the event, with Frigga taking charge of the children, insisting she alone knew how best to present the little ones. Loki heartily disagreed, accompanying his mother and the children amidst a flurry of arguments over who had the best style. Sif watched them go, her eyes lingering on her love. Her betrothed. She smiled.

“This is insane,” Jane said, moving to join Sif. “What was I thinking, marrying a god? I clearly don’t belong here.”

“You belong with Thor, sister, and Thor belongs with you,” Sif said simply. 

Jane flushed. “Sister?” she asked hesitantly, a smile quivering at the edge of her lips. 

Sif looped Jane’s arm through her own. “By binding ourselves to the brothers, we are in turn bound to each other. Welcome to the family.”

“I think that’s my line, considering you aren’t married yet,” Jane said. 

“Then welcome me,” Sif said. Jane’s wide smile said it all.

*

All of Asgard arrived to celebrate the return of the princes. Many wary glances were directed towards Loki, but all had the good sense to keep their doubts to themselves, Sif was pleased to note. 

The children had long since retired to bed, escorted out by Eir’s helpers. Nannies would have to be acquired, and soon, for a return to Asgard meant a return to duties and less time for childcare. Sif would do the hiring, for she was sure Loki would resent any trying to raise his children in his place and would purposefully sabotage all who inquired after the position. 

“We should have stayed on Midgard,” Loki murmured as he swept Sif off for a dance. She had attracted no small amount of looks, paraded around as she was on Loki’s arm. Not a sight any were expecting, Sif was sure, but there was no place she would rather be. 

“We could not, and you know it,” Sif replied, allowing Loki to lead her in a series of complicated steps. 

He pulled her close. “Of course we could,” he said. “Didn’t our time in America teach you anything? We can do anything we put our minds to.”

Sif raised an eyebrow. “Such as forgive Thor for not making what you consider adequate recompense for perceived wrongs?”

“Perceived, indeed!” Loki hooted. “You know as well as I--”

Sif covered his mouth with her hand, and he kissed her palm. “Not tonight,” she said. “Tonight is for revelry; tomorrow there is time aplenty to continue righting wrongs and preparing for the future.”

“For Ragnarok,” Loki said, twirling her. “Of all the nefarious plots I suspected Odin of, that one did not enter into my mind.” He frowned. “There is more yet that he is not telling us.”

“A problem for tomorrow,” Sif insisted. “As is determining how best to keep our plentiful offspring safe. While they do show promise as warriors, they are young yet, and I will not sacrifice them--”

This time Loki cut her off with a kiss. “A problem for tomorrow,” he murmured into her lips. 

Tomorrow. 

It was a beautiful word, full of promise and anticipation. A word full of hope, hope she once thought gone along with Loki’s good heart and any hope of his love. The fact that there was a tomorrow at all was golden. “I love you,” she said.

“And I, you,” he replied.

She would continue to love him for as many tomorrows as they were granted, would continue to stay by his side. Never again would Loki have cause to release his grip on his home, his family, his heart. Never again would he lose his tomorrow because he thought there was none to look forward to. Whatever the future held, whether death and destruction through Ragnarok or promise of new life and rebirth in the aftermath, they--along with Thor and Jane--would face it together.

Sif leaned in and sealed their future with a kiss.

**  
End  
**

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: there is a legit tool called the Bastard File, used for sharpening blades. That thing has Loki’s name written all over it.


End file.
